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YOUNG DUCK- 
SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


BY 

FRANK E. KELLOGG 

Author of “The Boy Duck Hunters** 

WITH FOUR FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 




Copyright, 1910 , by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 


All rights reserved 



September^ igio 




©GI.A271254 


PEEFACE 


Many of tHe events recorded in this book really 
occurred. Beam Foster is drawn from life. He 
is a close friend of the author’s, and when a 
youth, received the injury to his lung by a fall 
from a bridge, as herein described. The wound 
refused to heal and the doctors could do nothing 
for him. After months of suffering, as a last 
resort, he took his guns, fishing-tackle, traps, 
dogs, etc., and accompanied by a friend, went to 
live on an island in the Mississippi. There they 
remained for nearly a year, hunting, fishing, 
trapping, and rowing, in all kinds of weather. 

The result of this rough outdoor experience 
was that he became as strong, rugged and hearty 
as a bear. 

The moral to be deduced from this story would 
seem to be this : 

Throw physic to the dogs; get out into the 
woods, exercise every day all you can in God’s 
own sunshine, and Nature will do the rest, with- 
out money and without price. 

The Authok. 

Eugene, Oregon. 

June 28, 1909. 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

I. A Mishap 1 

II. The Old Cabin 19 

III. More Callers 34 

IV. Fishing 44 

V. Loafing and Locating 65 

VI. The Strange Light 74 

VII. A Visit from Home 82 

VIII. A Visitor and a Thunder-storm 98 

IX. A Day with the Ducks 121 

X. Beam Gets a Little Free Advice 142 

XI. Over Decoys on the River 150 

XII. The Morning Shoot 173 

XIII. Two Stranger Guests 184 

XIV. Trapping 201 

XV. A Snowstorm and What It Brought . . . .219 

XVI. A Coon Hunt 231 

XVII. The Breaking Up of Winter 248 

XVIII. Mr. Johnson and His Friend 259 

XIX. Another Camper 270 

XX. A Strange Experience 277 

XXI. Another Surprise 290 

XXII. The Last of the Gang 308 

XXIII. A Part of the Busy World 334 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘‘He Heard a Honk Almost at His Elbow” . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“ Suddenly He Saw a Big Bass Leap up in the Air ” . 90 1/ 

“ Tod Went on His Stomach on the Seat Ahead ” . . 124 

“ The Artillery Was Turned Loose ” .1 ..i 1. i. 168 


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YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS 
IN CAMP 



YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS 
IN CAMP 

CHAPTER I 

A MISHAP 

^ ^ TT "T ADN’T we better point our noses for 

I 1 home, fellows ? Looks like a shower 

M M comin^ Rp/’ called Tom Williams to 
his three mates, who were intently watching 
their bobbers from the vantage-ground of a big 
dead tree that extended out into the waters of 
the slough, where it had fallen years before. 

A favorite fishing spot for sunfish and crop- 
pies, the “Leaning Tree’’ was the objective point 
of every schoolboy who could hurry through his 
Saturday’s work and have a few hours to spare. 

“Yes, let’s go home. I’m ready. This is 
pretty tame sport, after playing bass,” replied 
Beam Foster as he began reeling in his line. 

“Don’t go back on an old friend,” said Jim 
Neal, lifting his line from the water and climbing 
out of his comfortable perch in a crotch of the 
old tree. 

“Never! That’s the reason I wanted to come 
1 


2 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


down and see the old tree once more. We Ve had 
lots of fun here,’’ returned Beam, pulling a small 
string of fish out of the water and walking the 
log ashore. 

‘‘I’m ready; haven’t had a nibble for fifteen 
minutes,” remarked Tod Masters, and followed 
his mates to the bank. 

“Get a move on you or we’ll get wet,” said 
Tom impatiently, surveying the heavens with a 
critical eye. 

“Don’t hurry the cattle, the weather’s cool,” 
Tod returned complaisantly, as he swung up the 
bank and trudged along after the others. 

“Come on, short-legs!” called Jim over his 
shoulder. 

Tod noticed the approaching storm and let out 
another link in the members referred to. 

It was a good mile and a half to town and half 
of the distance had been covered when Tom 
cried : 

“Let’s have a race to the bridge and beat the 
storm. ’ ’ 

“That hits me, come on!” cried Jim eagerly. 

“Who carries the fish?” asked Beam. 

“You long-legged ducks do the running and 
I’ll carry the fish,” said Tod, “I ain’t afraid of 
a wetting.” 

“Take them, then. Good-bye, see you later.” 

There was a quick movement, a scurry of feet, 
and Tod was trudging on alone, watching the 
three flying forms in the distance. 


A MISHAP 


3 


bet on Beam/’ mused Tod, unconsciously 
increasing bis speed. 

It was two hundred yards to the little bridge, 
and Tod watched his mates close in on the dis- 
tance, with kindling eye. He saw them reach the 
bridge and cross it almost neck-and-neck. Then 
he saw what seemed to be a collision, and Tom 
and Beam disappeared. 

‘‘Somebody’s hurt if they went over that 
bank,” and Tod broke into a run. 

The thunder growled ominously, but he did 
not heed it. Panting and winded he reached the 
far end of the bridge and peered eagerly down 
over the twenty-foot embankment. What he saw 
turned him sick with horror. Tom and Jim were 
kneeling by Beam’s prostrate form, wiping blood 
from his mouth with a handkerchief. 

Tod threw away the fish and slid and tumbled 
down the bank. 

“For heaven’s sake, is he dead?” he gasped, 
awe-struck at Beam’s pallid face. 

“No, his heart beats. Bring some water, 
quick 1” Tom cried. 

Tod dashed for the little creek and in a trice 
returned with a hat full of water, with which 
they sprinkled the unconscious Beam. 

“We must get him to a doctor as soon as pos- 
sible,” said Tom. “One of you run down to Ly- 
fords and get their horse and light wagon, and 
be quick about it.” 

“I’ll go, I can run faster,” Jim cried, and he 


4 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


scrambled up the bank and darted down the road 
in the direction of the village. 

‘‘How did it happen?’’ asked Tod. 

“Why, we had just reached this end of the 
bridge and were about to slow up, when I slipped 
on something that threw me against Beam and 
he went one way and I the other. I grabbed 
a root and kept from going over the other bank, 
but Beam wasn’t so lucky. Jim said he rolled 
and bumped clean to the bottom. He’s hurt in- 
ternally somehow. I wish Jim would hurry,” 
and Tom looked anxiously down the road. 

“It’s only about forty rods down there, it 
oughtn’t to take him long.” 

A clap of thunder followed and a dash of rain. 

“Let her rain,” said Tom grimly, “it will help 
revive him. ’ ’ 

“Here comes Jim and old man Lyford just 
a-sailing,” said Tod as the rattle of wheels was 
heard. “Can we lift him alone?” 

“No, wait for the old man. He’s strong as an 
ox.” 

The wagon dashed up and a large, gray-haired 
man leaped out and sprang down the bank. 

“How is this, boys, an accident?” 

“Yes, sir; Beam fell over the bank.” 

“Bad business. We must get him to Doc Hall 
soon as possible.” 

Heedless of the pouring rain, he began chafing, 
rubbing, and bathing the unconscious form. 

Either the work or the magnetism of his pres- 


A MISHAP 


5 


ence proved effective, for in a few moments Beam 
opened his eyes. 

‘‘What^s the matter T’ he asked, in a husky 
voice. 

‘‘You’ve had an accident, and we want to get 
you in out of the rain soon as possible,” said Mr. 
Lyford kindly. 

“I can walk;” Beam tried to rise, but fell back. 

“Tut, tut, my hoy. You don’t need to walk. 
We have a wagon here. Just keep still and leave 
it to us.” 

Tenderly the injured boy was borne up the 
bank and placed in the little wagon. Despite the 
rain, his mates took off every stitch of their out- 
side clothing and placed it in the bottom of the 
wagon. Beam was tenderly laid thereon and 
they started for the village, only a short distance 
away. 

“Had we better take him home or to Doc 
Hall ’s office f ’ ’ queried Tom. 

“We’ll stop at Doc’s office; it’s on the way. 
If he’s there, we’ll do just as he says. G’long, 
Spot.” 

By the time they had reached the main street 
of the little village the shower was over and the 
sun peeping through the clouds. 

Fortunately Dr. Hall was in his office and took 
in the situation at a glance. 

“Bring him right in and put him in the oper- 
ating chair. Is he hurt badly?” 

“That’s what we want you to find out. He 


6 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


fell over the bank, back here at the bridge. 
Don’t try to walk, Beam; we’ll carry you in,” 
said Mr. Lyford, dropping the reins and leaping 
down from his seat with the agility of a boy. 

Beam sat up and looked around at the gather- 
ing crowd. 

‘ ‘ I can walk. I don ’t believe I ’m much hurt, ’ ’ 
and he started to climb out. 

‘‘Better go easy,” Tom warned, springing to 
his assistance. 

“If his legs are all right it probably won’t hurt 
him to walk,” said Dr. Hall, taking one of the 
injured boy’s arms. Mr. Lyford took the other 
and Beam was conducted into the office and put 
in the operating chair, Jim and Tod following, 
together with part of the crowd, while Tom re- 
mained outside to answer questions. 

“How did it happen!” 

“What did he fall on!” 

“Where’s he hurt!” 

“No more school for him this term!” 

“Why, we were coming from the ‘Leaning 
Tree’ and took a run for it to get here before 
the shower. Just at this end of the bridge, he 
went over the bank. He must have struck a rock 
or something going down, for he keeps bleeding 
from the mouth.” 

“Wonder the critter ain’t dead afore this,” 
said Silas Hopkins, “he’s allers gittin’ chopped 
or pounded or banged agin somethin’.” 

“Takes lots o’ thumpin’ to kill a boy,” re- 


A MISHAP 


7 


marked J oel Perkins. ‘ ‘ Seems as if my boy got 
hurt about once a week, but he allers comes out 
on it, somehow.’’ 

“ Wal, if Beam ain’t hurt very bad, le’s go back 
an’ hold down our drygoods box agin,” drawled 
an eccentric citizen to a comrade, and the pair 
strolled away, followed gradually by the rest of 
the collection. 

Tod Masters came out of the office. 

^‘Doc says his lung’s hurt. Tore some of the 
ligaments or something. Can’t tell yet how seri- 
ous it is.” 

‘‘He didn’t have any too strong lungs before,” 
said Tom, looking serious. 

“No, that’s a fact, but we’ll hope for the best.” 

“Here comes his father. He’s probably heard 
of it.” 

“Yes, it’s all over town by this time. Some- 
body would go right down to old Hiram Foster 
with the news the first thing, ’ ’ answered Tod. 

“Wonder what he’ll say. Beam never got 
much petting at home.” 

“Oh, he’ll take it calm and matter of fact, 
as he does everything,” said Tod in a low tone, 
as a brisk-stepping old man approached. 

“What is it, boys. Beam hurt very badly!” 

“We don’t know. He’s in there with Doc 
now,” Tom replied. 

Without any more words, Mr. Foster pushed 
his way into the office, past the curious, and into 
the little back room. 


8 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

‘^How is it, Al, is he much hurtT’ 

‘‘That’s what I’m trying to find out, Hi. His 
lung got about the worst shaking up, and I guess 
that’s about the only injury that amounts to 
much. ’ ’ 

“That’s a bad place to get hurt. His lungs 
weren’t of much account before. Are you in 
much pain. Beam!” 

The quiet calmness of his tone gave no indica- 
tion of his relationship to the injured boy. But 
that was one of his oddities. Really, Hiram 
Foster was one of the kindest-hearted men in 
the world. 

“Not much, only I feel weak,” was the almost 
whispered reply. 

“That’s from loss of blood. Don’t try to 
talk. Beam. Here, take a sip of this. I’ll have 
you ready in a minute and then we’ll drive you 
down home and put you in bed. Hi, you better 
have the livery send down that light spring sur- 
rey with the soft seat. I’ll have Beam ready 
by the time it gets here,” and the old doctor 
bustled around among his pills and preparations. 

How Beam Foster did hate the thought of 
being put to bed that soft May day ! But there 
was no help for it. His only hope lay in getting 
well as soon as possible. For Beam loved the 
woods and fields and the old Mississippi. Out- 
side, in the pleasant air, the birds were singing 
and working, and a pair of cheerful robins had a 


A MISHAP 


9 


nest half completed in plain view, within ten feet 
of his window. It almost seemed as if they sym- 
pathized with him in his enforced confinement. 

Of course, a stream of neighbors came and 
went the first few days, and of course every one 
of them was sure that if his or her advice were 
followed. Beam would soon be well. The various 
recipes and suggestions would have made a small 
volume. Some of them were queer enough, too. 
One woman was sure that the blood of a black 
hen made into a poultice bound over the wounded 
lung would heal it in a week. Another insisted 
that a poultice made of boiled onions would take 
out the soreness in short order. Others advised 
herbs of various kinds, and so on down the list. 
But Dr. Hall was in attendance and only shook 
his head at most of these homely old remedies. 
By the middle of June Beam was able to be out 
of doors, but still his lung did not seem to heal, 
and so the summer days dragged away. By the 
last of August he was apparently going into 
a decline. He could eat but little and coughed 
a great deal. 

In this extremity. Dr. Hall was called upon to 
make a final diagnosis. 

He took Beam into the office and examined him 
carefully and critically, testing his lungs by every 
known appliance. Then, being a man of few 
words, he dismissed the boy and started for the 
Foster home. 


10 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


He went in without knocking and a moment 
later stood by the side of his old friend, in the 
latter ’s little den. 

‘HUs no use mincing matters, Hi; I’m afraid 
weVe got to lose him. That injury to his lung 
won’t heal and seems to he getting worse. He 
may last a week and he may live two or three 
months. But it’s only a question of a short time, 
in my judgment. You and I have been lifelong 
friends and it breaks my heart to say it, but it’s 
best for you to know the truth. ’ ’ 

Except for a slight compression of the lips, 
not a muscle in Hiram Foster’s face changed at 
these blunt words. He looked straight at the 
old family physician as if trying to read his 
thoughts, but said not a word. 

Dr. Hall continued: have examined him 

thoroughly and his lung is even in worse shape 
than I expected to find it. He must have re- 
ceived a severe shock and a harder blow than 
we thought. I can’t help him any more and 
my coming here simply means a doctor’s bill.” 

Then he paused and looked at Beam’s father. 

Mr. Foster still remained silent. It seemed as 
if he could not bring himself to speak the words 
that struggled for utterance. 

Dr. Hall looked long and earnestly at his old 
friend before he spoke again. 

feel almost as badly about him as you do. 
Hi. Don ’t take it to heart too much ; it can ’t be 
helped and we must bow to the will of a Higher 


A MISHAP 


11 


Power and through misty eyes the grizzled 
old physician looked affectionately at his friend 
and oldtime comrade. 

The harsh outlines of Hiram Foster’s rugged 
face softened slightly as he said wearily : 

suppose you’re right, Al. It seems a little 
tough, after raising a hoy up to nearly eighteen, 
to have him die right under your eyes and not 
be able to help him. But that fall from the 
bridge seems to have done the business. I could 
stand it, but it breaks his mother’s heart to see 
her only boy fade away before her eyes, just on 
the threshold of manhood,” and the muscles of 
the stem face twitched slightly, while a sus- 
picion of moisture crept into the dark eyes. 

‘^Keep him out in the air all you can, fresh 
air is the best medicine in the world for affected 
lungs. If anything can keep him alive, that will. 
Good-bye, Hi,” said the brusque old doctor, as 
he hurried out of the house, and took his way 
toward the business part of the town. 

For an hour Mr. Foster sat pondering the 
matter, revolving various plans in his mind. 
Then his eye wandered out over the broad Mis- 
sissippi along whose shores he had spent his 
life. The dense woods hid many a slough pond 
and creek, where he had spent happy hours hunt- 
ing and fishing in the years gone by. The old 
man loved the woods and streams as he did his 
own family, and much of his life had been spent 
near to nature ’s heart. Of late years Beam had 


12 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


been bis constant companion on bis bunting and 
fishing jaunts, and together they bad tramped 
or rowed over every foot of land and water 
for miles up and down the great river. Beam 
grew to love the woods and streams as ardently 
as did bis father, and be bad grown to be as 
skillful in the use of rod and gun. No wonder 
that Hiram Foster’s face softened as be gazed 
over the beloved river, and that a far away look 
came into bis eyes. 

At length be aroused himself and muttered : 

^Ht’s the boy’s only show. Not one chance in 
a thousand; but be must take it.” 

As be uttered the words half aloud, the door 
opened and the object of bis thoughts came in. 
A tall, lank youth of almost eighteen, with an un- 
naturally pallid face and attenuated frame. Beam 
Foster certainly appeared to be on the brink of 
eternity. 

‘‘Hello, Beam, bow are you feeling to-day?” 

“Ob, about the same,” and the boy dropped 
wearily into a chair. 

For a moment Hiram Foster gazed at bis son 
with a yearning look in bis eyes, that told more 
plainly than words bow dear the boy was to him. 
It seemed as if be were on the point of taking 
him in bis arms as be did in the days of help- 
less childhood. But if such a thought entered 
bis bead, be put it from him as a womanish weak- 
ness. There was not much petting and coddling 
in the Foster family. 


.A MISHAP 


13 


^^Beam,’’ he said, and his voice was kind and 
fatherly, ‘^IVe been having a talk with Doc Hall 
since he examined you, and he doesn’t like the 
way your lungs are acting a hit. In fact he 
doesn’t give us much hope unless they begin to 
improve pretty soon. ’ ’ 

The old man softened the blow as much as 
possible. ^^He says you want all the fresh air 
you can get. I’ve been thinking the matter over 
since he left, and I’ve figured out that there is 
just one thing for you to do. Take your gun, 
fish pole, traps, dog, and plenty to eat. Take 
some boy with you for company, and go out in 
the woods and live there until you are well, or — ” 
Mr. Foster stopped and swallowed. He could 
not finish the sentence. 

‘‘Or dead;” Beam smiled grimly as he com- 
pleted his father’s words. 

“I suppose that’s about the size of it,” and 
Mr. Foster sank back heavily in his chair. 

“I’ve been thinking of the same thing,” Beam 
said calmly. “I might as well be dead, as half 
dead. I was talking with Tod Masters about it 
yesterday. He said he would go out in the woods 
with me and stay until I was well or carried 
home in a box.” 

“Did you pick out a camping place*?” 

“Not for sure, but we thought ‘Duck Island’ 
was as good a place as any. It’s about four 
miles from town, so we should be away from 
civilization, and it’s a good point for hunting 


14 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


and fishing. Then you own the island, so we 
would be on our own ground.’’ 

‘‘Yes, that is as good a spot as any. You 
would need a tent, of course. ’ ’ 

“There’s an old wood-chopper’s shanty we 
could live in. The roof was in pretty fair shape 
the last time I saw it, about a year ago. A party 
of us went in there to escape a shower once when 
we were fishing. It didn’t leak much then,” 
Beam paused and coughed ominously. 

“Yes, I had forgotten that old shanty. You 
would be out of doors most of the time, anyhow. 
The main thing is to have a dry place to sleep. ’ ’ 

“If it leaks, we’ll fix it. We’ll probably have 
plenty of time.” Beam smiled slightly at the 
thought of time. 

“Yes, you will have plenty of time. But stay 
outdoors every minute you can; that’s what 
you’re there for. Get away as soon as you can, 
too.” 

“I’ll see Tod to-day, and we’ll get ready right 
away,” and Beam’s eye brightened at the thought 
of living out in the woods. 

“All right. And I’ll tell mother about our 
plan, but she won’t object, I know, when she sees 
it’s for your good.” 

Biit Mrs. Foster did object — at first. The 
thought of her invalid boy away out in the woods 
where she could not see him and care for him 
was too much for her mother’s heart. 

“But, mother, it is the only hope for him. 


A MISHAP 


15 


Dr. Hall admits that he can do nothing more. 
He says that medicine is of no earthly benefit. 
If fresh air won’t cure him, nothing will. Be- 
sides, he has consumptive tendencies, you know, 
and nothing equals pure air as a cure for that 
disease,” said Mr. Foster earnestly. 

^‘Perhaps it is best,” his wife answered with 
a sigh, ‘^bnt it seems as if I couldn’t bear the 
thought of his lying out there alone in the woods, 
coughing, and no one to do a thing for him,” 
and she shivered slightly. 

‘‘Tod Masters will go with him and see that 
he is all right. I shall arrange with Tod to 
come up occasionally, and report how Beam is 
getting along.” 

“Where are they going?” 

“Beam thinks ‘Duck Island’ will be a good 
place. It’s only four miles down the river, 
about an hour’s row for Tod, if they should need 
us at any time. I tell yon, mother,” continued 
Mr. Foster impressively, “I have great faith 
in the healing power of Mother Nature, and 
that is why I am anxious to have Beam take this 
trip. He may be too far gone; but if he isn’t, 
I am satisfied that living out in the woods will 
bring him around all right.” 

And so Mrs. Foster’s consent was won. 

That afternoon the boys met at the Foster 
home and made a list of their wants. 

“Shall we need any boat besides your big 
skitf?” inquired Tod. 


16 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


going to take the little canoe,” returned 
Beam, ^4t will be handy to run around in.” 

‘‘That’s so. If we want to hunt or fish in dif- 
ferent places, one of us can use the canoe. But 
what will we do for a stove ? ’ ’ 

“We have a little old rusty cook-stove in the 
wood-shed. Mother says we can take that.” 

“Just the thing. We had better take a ham 
and a side of bacon, I suppose. Of course we 
can kill all the game and fish that we want to 
eat, but we might get too lazy to hunt, and want 
something to fall back on,” and Tod laughed at 
the idea. 

“We’ll take them, anyhow, for a change of 
diet if nothing else, but I’m not afraid but that 
I can keep us in meat with my 22 rifle, to say 
nothing of the shotguns.” 

“I don’t know; I’m a pretty good feeder,” 
Tod chuckled, patting his stomach suggestively. 
“You’ll see a big difference in the amount you 
eat, too, down in the woods. ’ ’ 

“I hope so,” chimed in Mrs. Poster, who had 
just come into the room, “he doesn’t eat enough 
to keep a chicken alive, now.” 

“I’ll have him eating three squares a day 
inside of a fortnight,” claimed Tod confidently. 

“Have you got down flour, corn-meal, salt, 
etc.?” Beam asked. 

“Yes, and forty ’leven other things,” and Tod 
read off a long list of their needs and wants. 

“I guess that’s pretty near everything,” said 


A MISHAP 


17 


Beam thoughtfully. ‘^I’ll have the grocer de- 
liver them here this afternoon, and we ^11 get away 
in the morning. ’ ’ 

‘‘And do try and take care of yourself, Beam,^’ 
pleaded Mrs. Foster with maternal anxiety. 
“Don’t get out in rain-storms, or fall in the 
river. Eemember to keep your feet dry, and 
you had better keep a flannel over your chest. 
And take some of that home-made balsam, and 
some of that grease that I grease your chest 
with. And take some — ” 

“Hold on,” Beam interrupted, “I’m going 
down there to get away from medicine and the 
doctors. So don’t think of anything more.” 

“I intend to have him get up at daylight and 
take a cold plunge bath in the Mississippi every 
morning,” said Tod with a gleam of mischief in 
his eye. 

“Beam Foster, don’t you do any such thing!” 
cried his mother in alarm. “It would be the 
death of you. ’ ’ 

“We’ll see how I feel after I get down there,” 
Beam returned evasively. “Tod and I will fig- 
ure out a plan of treatment later on. ’ ’ 

“But don’t you think of jumping into the cold 
water undressed I ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How shall I do ? jump in with my clothes on ? ” 
asked Beam gravely. 

“Don’t go in at all. If you want a bath, heat 
some water. Cold water isn’t good for your 
lungs. I read an article the other day that said 


18 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


so, and you must take some medicine, of course,” 
said Mrs. Foster reproachfully. 

‘ ‘ All right. I ^11 take whatever Doc Hall says, ’ * 
agreed Beam, and that settled the medicine con- 
ference. 

“Bosh! Don’t take a thing,” said the blunt 
doctor, when Beam called at his office and ex- 
plained matters. ‘ ‘ Give your lungs a rest. J ust 
a little something to keep the stomach in shape. 
I’ll write you a prescription. I’m glad you’re 
going, too. Walk, row, hunt, and fish all you 
can stand. Let us know occasionally how you 
are improving. ’ ’ 

Beam promised to do so. 


CHAPTEE n 


THE OLD CABIN 


HE following morning was a busy one 



for Beam and Tod. The services of a 


M drayman were secured, and their ‘ ‘house- 
hold’’ goods and supplies hauled down to the 
river bank. 

“It’s going to hustle this old boat to hold 
everything,” Tod remarked, scratching his head 
dubiously as he surveyed the amount of stuff. 

“She’ll hold it all right. She’s got to,” re- 
turned Beam, piling in more packages. 

“Mighty little room left for us, though.” 

“Oh, we’ll find a corner somewhere. It’s 
down stream, anyhow, so we can float instead of 
row, if necessary. Better put that sack of de- 
coys in the bow.” 

“That’s the best place, I guess; the canoe is 
full,” and Tod stowed the decoys up in front. 

“Here come Tom Williams and Jim Neal,” 
said Beam, as two boys sauntered down the bank. 

‘ ‘ Hello, boys ! What ’s up ? ” 

“Oh, nothing. Tod and I are just changing 
our residence.” Beam sat down wearily upon 
a stone, while his comrade busied himself with 
stowing away the remainder of the load. 


19 


20 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I’m taking Beam down to Dnck Island, to 
cure up that lung you fellows knocked to pieces 
when he fell over the bridge,” volunteered Tod 
as he paused from his labors. 

“It was a mighty hard bang he got,” replied 
Tom. “I remember that, all right, and only my 
' luck saved me from going down with him, ’ ’ and 
adding, “you want to fix him up for football this 
fall.” 

“We’ll hardly make connections that soon, as 
this is the last of August now. We may be down 
there all winter, we can’t tell.” 

“Going to live in a tent?” Jim asked. 

“We expect to camp in that old wood-chop- 
per’s shanty if it’s fit to live in, but we’re taking 
Beam’s tent along to be sure of a dry spot, if 
the old shanty don’t hold water.” 

“When the ducks come in the fall, we’ll come 
down and board with you a spell.” 

“Just what we want. We’ll have to raise 
some money for expenses and I expect we’ll 
have to shoot some for the market to do it. 
You and Jim helped knock out his lung, and you 
can come down and help pay the expenses.” 

Two long brown hands reached out simulta- 
neously and grasped Tod’s, and Jim burst out: 

“We’ll do it and chop cordwood if necessary.” 

“All right. Come on. Beam, we’re loaded.” 

Beam cast a last look at the town he was leav- 
ing, perhaps forever, and climbed into the skiff. 

“You’ve worked too hard this morning,” said 


THE OLD CABIN 


21 


Tod kindly, ^‘you lie down any old place, and 1^11 
row her down. Kerens a spot about as big as a 
clam-shell on the front seat that I can sit on 
to row,’’ and Tod climbed in and adjusted the 
forward oars, while Beam stretched out on some 
boxes in the stern. 

‘‘Good-bye, lads; see you later.” 

The current caught the heavily laden skiff and 
canoe, and they swung off down stream. 

“I don’t propose to work very hard on the 
way down,” remarked Tod when they were well 
under way. 

“No, we don’t care when we get there,” re- 
turned Beam listlessly, as he watched the trees 
glide past. 

“Don’t you work so strenuously in the future, 
or you’ll get spanked. I’ll do the heavy work.” 

“I want to work. It’s good for me.” 

“I know, but you want to take it in mixed 
doses. Pulling in a two-pound bass is about 
your size at present,” and Tod sheered off to 
avoid kissing a snag that was anchored in a 
convenient spot for skiffs and steamboats to 
fish. 

“That’s the first thing we must do, locate the 
best bass ground. I haven’t fished around Duck 
Island for a year or two, and have forgotten 
where the best places are.” 

“We’ll locate the redeyes, and the big mouths 
too, when we get settled in camp good and com- 
fortable, ’ ’ returned Tod energetically, as he bent 


22 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


to the oars, despite his claim that he was going 
to loaf on the way. 

“Take it easy. WeTe in no hurry. 

“Thinking of those bass makes me want to 
get there and get after them. ’ ’ 

“They ^11 keep until we get there, returned 
Beam quietly. 

Rowing, drifting and chatting, the boys glided 
down the wide river. 

The densely leaved forest, which walled the 
shores like a great green curtain, looked cool and 
inviting. Small islands and large islands slipped 
passed. Some of them had been stripped of 
their timber by the greed of man, and were 
blanketed with wild grape vines that had sprung 
up after the devastation and now covered every 
brush pile and sapling, the low rich ground fur- 
nishing an ideal garden spot for the acid fruit. 

Only one steamboat passed them — the big 
stern wheel packet, ‘ ‘ St. Paul, ’ ^ churning noisily 
by and throwing up a heap of spray and great 
waves that spread to the shores and splashed 
and pounded for a long time after the boat had 
passed. 

“She throws a nasty swell,’’ Tod commented, 
as the skitf and canoe danced and rocked on the 
waves kicked up by the receding steamer. 

“Guess I’ll put the shotgun together. A 
wood-duck might come loafing along, and it 
wouldn’t make a bad supper,” and Beam pulled 
out the gun case and unlimbered his gun. 


THE OLD CABIN 


23 


‘‘Not much ‘show for a wood-duck in the mid- 
dle of the day at this time of the year/^ said 
Tod as they swept along. 

Half an hour later they sighted the head of 
Duck Island. 

“If I remember rightly, the cabin is about 
half-way down the island, near the east bank,^^ 
Beam remarked as they neared the head. 

“We’ll find it, all right, if it’s there,” and 
Tod faced around from a long look down the 
wooded shore. The rhythmic swing of the oars 
went on. 

“Better land here, and I’ll go up on the bank 
and see if I can locate it,” said Beam. 

Tod ran the skitf along shore and Beam 
stepped out and climbed the bank. 

“I see it. It’s about thirty rods below us,” 
he called. 

“Come on. We’ll soon be there,” was the 
reply, and Beam scrambled down into the boat. 

“I’m guessing it’s about here,” Tod cried, 
running the boat into shore. 

“I hope the roof hasn’t caved in.” 

“We’ll know in a jiffy. Better not unload 
anything until we go and take a look at it. ’ ’ 

Beam acquiesced, and they walked up the bank, 
which sloped back from the water more gently 
than where they first landed. An old foot-path 
led up from the river, a path evidently made by 
the wood-choppers in former years. 

The shanty was not more than forty yards 


24 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


from the bank. It was a one room affair with 
a board roof, and had been the temporary quar- 
ters of a number of men once employed by Mr. 
Foster. 

“Pretty rusty-looking affair, but we don’t 
care, if she don’t leak,” Beam commented as they 
stood before the old shanty. 

“Look at the chicken feathers all around!” 
iTod exclaimed. 

“I should say so! Looks as if somebody had 
been living here lately; wonder if it’s locked,” 
and Beam went up and tried the door. 

It opened easily, and they walked in. 

“Whew! Dirt, whiskey bottles, old blankets 
in the corner, and other bric-a-brac,” cried Tod 
in disgust. 

“Ugh! How it smells of whiskey and to- 
bacco!” Beam turned up his nose and walked 
to the door for fresh air. 

“We.’ve evidently stumbled on somebody’s 
headquarters, and from the looks, they are a 
pretty tough lot. The question is, have they 
gone, or do they still inhabit this part of the 
country,” and Tod backed out, holding his nose. 

“We don’t care whether they have gone or 
not, we’re going to camp here just the same. If 
they show up, they get an invitation to take a 
walk. ’ ’ 

“But we’ll have to put up the tent for to-night. 
We can’t sleep here until it’s scrubbed and 
cleaned. ’ ’ 


THE OLD CABIN 


25 


course not. We’ll put up the tent, and 
bring up our stuff, and then turn in and scrub 
out the old shack. It will dry enough so that we 
can move in to-morrow. ,The roof looks in pretty 
fair shape.” 

Seems to me it’s getting pretty near lunch 
time,” Tod insinuated. 

Beam looked at his watch. 

‘^Eleven o’clock. Let’s carry up the stuff 
and then have our lunch; we’ll put up the tent 
afterwards. ’ ’ 

Half an hour’s work, and the boys had every- 
thing piled under the trees near the cabin. Then 
came lunch, followed by a short rest. 

‘‘I ought to keep my gun handy. I might 
pick up a squirrel for supper, while we are 
working,” Beam remarked, picking up his gun. 

^‘Good idea.” Tom went into the shanty, and 
crossing the room, looked out of the one window 
into the forest on the other side. 

‘^Come here. Beam; I believe I see a squirrel 
now, out in this big oak.” 

Gun in hand. Beam was at his side in a trice. 
Tod’s finger pointed at a distant tree. 

‘‘See out on that limb. Isn’t that a squir- 
reir’ 

“I don’t see it,” and Beam peered anxiously 
out of the little window. 

“Don’t you see its tail hanging down?” 

Beam was about to reply, when a gruff voice 
broke in : 


26 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^‘What are you kids doing in our shanty? 
Get out of here!^^ 

Both boys turned quickly at the words and 
saw, standing in the doorway, a squat, greasy 
individual, who evidently belonged to the genus 
tramp. 

Beam took in the situation at a glance. 
Tramps had evidently been using the shanty as 
a base, and living high at the expense of the 
neighboring farmers’ hen roosts. 

He retorted indignantly: 

‘ ‘ Get out, yourselves ! This shanty and island 
belong to me.” 

‘‘Come on. Snoopy, and throw ’em out,” and 
at the tramp’s words, another party of that class 
bobbed up behind him. 

The idea of a couple of tramps throwing him 
out of his own possession was too much for 
Beam’s temper, which was none too mild. 

The hot blood mounted to his face and his 
eyes flashed. 

Snatching up the gun and throwing it to his 
shoulder, he pointed it straight at the head of the 
first tramp, and snapped out: 

“Get off this island in two minutes, or I’ll bore 
a hole through both of you ! ’ ’ 

The average tramp is a coward as well as a 
sneak. He will steal, and even murder, when 
there is no danger to himself, but let a nervy 
man face him with a gun and lo k businesslike, 
and the tramp migrates. 


THE OLD CABIN 


27 


The leader took one look into the black muzzle 
of the double barrel, then with one backward 
leap he was out of the door. 

‘‘Fly the coop, Snoopy, they’re on the shoot I” 
And the two valorous chicken stealers dashed 
for the west side of the island. 

Beam was after them instantly, with Tod at 
his heels. 

“Git,” he called out, “or I’ll fill you with 
lead.” 

How the rascals did run ! Leaping brush 
piles and dodging trees, they literally tore 
through the woods. 

“They’ve got a boat over there somewhere,” 
panted Tod. 

“The quicker they get into it the better,” 
and Beam ducked under a low hanging limb. 

“Don’t run so fast. You will get your lung 
to bleeding again,” cried Tod. “Give me the 
gun and I’ll chase the rats.” 

“Drat the lung! I’ll see the finish of those 
skunks, if it costs two lungs.” 

When the boys reached the bank of the river, 
the fleeing tramps were well out in the stream, 
and rowing for dear life. They were in an old 
worn-out flat-bottomed punt with a pair of oars 
made from fence boards. 

“Don’t you ever show up here again,” called 
Beam, throwing the gun to his shoulder. 

One of the t ^amps picked up a piece of board 
and held it before him. But Beam did not shoot. 


28 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

He saw that they were thoroughly frightened, 
and was glad enough to see them go without 
further trouble. 

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,’’ said Tod, 
as the old punt, aided by the current, became 
smaller and smaller in the distance. 

“I don’t think they will bother this island 
any more for the present, but we will keep our 
eyes open,” said Beam as they went back across 
the island. 

Reaching the cabin, he sank down upon a 
stump, remarking: 

“Now that the excitement is over, I feel weak 
and tired.” 

“Just take a good rest and I’ll do the work.” 

Tod started vigorously to carry out this asser- 
' tion and, while Beam looked on and chatted with 
him, he found a broom and proceeded to sweep 
out some of the accumulations of dirt, chicken 
feathers and empty bottles that adorned the in- 
side of the old shanty. 

“Those rats have had a picnic here, from the 
looks of things. Been living on chickens and 
whiskey. All right for them, but tough on the 
farmers,” and Tod heaved out a pile of dirt and 
bottles. 

‘ ‘ Dutch J ohn lives only about half a mile back 
on the Iowa bluff. The chances are, those fel- 
lows have been helping themselves liberally to 
his chickens.” 

“I suppose so; his and his neighbors’. It’s 


THE OLD CABIN 


29 


a wonder to me they didn’t get on to the thieves 
and chase them up.” 

^^They probably never thought of looking on 
an island for them.” 

‘‘Wonder where they got all their whiskey? 
Here’s a bushel of empty bottles,” said Tod, 
surveying the array of glassware. 

“Oh, begged for the money to buy food with, 
of course. There is always some tender-hearted 
person ready to give money to help the needy.” 

“What in the world shall I do with all these 
bottles ? ” 

“Save a few of the best ones to carry spring- 
water in, when we go away on a fishing or shoot- 
ing trip, and throw the rest in a hole somewhere. 
And, by the way, I wonder if that squirrel is 
there yet, that you said you saw,” and Beam’s 
eye kindled and the tired look was replaced by 
one of expectancy, as he picked up his gun. 

“That’s so. Get a squirrel or two for sup- 
per, while I clean out this old shebang.” 

“I haven’t got down to shooting squirrels 
with a shotgun, yet, if I have a bad lung. 
Where’s the 22?” 

“In the case there by that pile of stuff,” and 
Tod nodded his head in the direction of a heap 
of camp duffle. 

“When I come back we’ll put up the tent, and 
then get some water and scrub out the shanty,” 
called Beam as he started out in the woods. 

“All right. And, say; remember that one of 


30 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


those tramps was called ‘Snoopy’ by his part- 
ner. It may help identify him sometime.” 

“I’ll remember. Very appropriate name, 
too.” 

Beam grinned as he disappeared behind the 
shanty, while Tod went on with the cleansing 
process, singing in a contented way: 

“The partridge swiftly flying, 

The snipe is zigzag hying, 

At my aim sure to fall. 

At my aim sure to fall. 

The deer with towering antler. 

The wolf and screaming panther. 

Drop at my rifle call, 

Drop at my rifle call.” 

The tiny crack of the 22 broke off the song; 
“wonder if Beam got one?” he soliloquized. 

By the time Tod had heaved out another peck 
of dirt the rifle cracked again somewhere in the 
woods, and presently Beam came around the 
cabin with two big gray squirrels. 

“Good boy! I thought something was going 
on up in the timber.” 

“Will they make enough for a stew?” And 
Beam threw down his game with a satisfied look. 

“Just enough. Let’s scrub out the old ranch, 
and then we’ll clean them,” replied Tod, his eyes 
kindling with thoughts of the hunting and fish- 
ing to come. 

An hour’s hard work with water, soap and old 


THE OLD CABIN 


31 


brooms cleansed the little cabin fairly well, after 
which it was left to dry while they put up the 
tent and cleaned the squirrels. Then the little 
stove was put up in the cabin and a fire built to 
assist in drying out the dampness. 

‘‘Let^s put out a short trot-line and see if we 
canT get a blue cat for breakfast,’’ Tod sug- 
gested. “We won’t have time to fish any to- 
day.” 

^ ‘ Good head ! I’ll fix up the line and you catch 
the frogs. ’ ’ 

“All right; I’ll catch frogs enough in fifteen 
minutes to supply a French market. And, by the 
way, to-morrow we must make a live-box, so 
we can have fish on tap any old time,” and Tod 
emptied out an old basket and started after 
frogs. 

“Of course, when I turn myself loose among 
the bass, no telling what will happen.” 

“That sounds good, and then I’ll turn several 
bass loose amongst myself, ’ ’ Tod replied. 

Inside of half an hour Beam had rigged up a 
twenty-hook trot-line, and about that time. Tod 
showed up with the bait. 

“Better drop it out opposite that point,” 
Beam suggested, pointing over to the Illinois side 
of the river. 

“Yes, I was thinking of that spot, just abreast 
of the swift water. Guess the tramps won’t take 
a sneak on us while we ’re gone. ’ ’ 


32 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


they do, there’ll be fireworks next time,” 
Beam commented, picking up the guns, together 
with the trot-line, and trailing along. 

‘ ^ Let me row. I want exercise, ’ ’ he remarked, 
as he climbed into the boat. 

‘‘All right, but take her easy. I’ll keep off 
the mud-turtles with the 22. Did you put in the 
floats and sinker!”, 

“Yes, everything,” said Beam, heading for the 
eastern shore. 

“We ought to pull out two or three cat in the 
morning,” Tod observed, as he busied himself 
fastening the rope to the anchor stone, and tying 
on the floats. 

“That will be plenty. We won’t have a very 
big live-box, ’ ’ replied Beam, who was now round- 
ing the boat toward the shore. 

The anchor stone was let go, and the skiff 
dropped down to the first float. Then Tod baited 
the hooks as they slipped down the line, until the 
last float was reached. This was heaved over- 
board and their task was done. 

“There; if we don’t get some fish in the morn- 
ing, I miss my guess, ’ ’ Tod remarked, as he set- 
tled down in the stern, while Beam headed for 
the island. After a moment the latter looked up 
at his companion. 

“The old river is peaceful these days. 
Doesn’t look much like the same one that will 
lash and roar and pound in a November north- 
wester a few months later.” 


THE OLD CABIN 


33 


“The air doesnT feel much like it will then, 
either. ’ ’ 

“But somehow,’’ continued Beam, with a remi- 
niscent look, “I long for those wild, stormy 
times. They seem to wake a fellow up and put 
vim and life into him. ’ ’ 

“ So do I. It makes your blood tingle to think 
of it. To see the bluebills and redheads and the 
rest of them skimming up and down the river, 
or hurrying south, up in the clouds, is worth the 
cold and exposure. I wish that time was here 
right now,” and Tod’s eyes danced with joy at 
the thought, showing that he had the true duck- 
hunter’s spirit. 

“I’d just as soon wait a while; I want to get 
a little more muscle and stronger lungs, so I can 
stand the cold.” 

“Yes, that’s so. We want to get you in shape 
before cold weather comes. But we’ll have the 
wood-duck and teal shooting before that time, 
you know. ’ ’ 

“And, I hope, some woodcock,” put in Beam. 
“I like to hunt those chaps. They’re so quick 
and shy and shifty that it’s worth something to 
outwit them. But we haven’t much ground for 
the long bills around here. ’ ’ 

“We’ll get enough for a mess or two,” said 
Tod, “to say nothing of jacksnipe and sand- 
snipe.” Then looking up suddenly, he cried : 

“Hurry! I just saw a man go around the 
cabin. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER III 


MORE CALLERS 

i ir |"^HE deuce you did! I wonder if those 
I tramps had the nerve to come prowl- 
Jl ing back here, ’ ’ and Beam bent to the 
oars with more vigor. 

donT believe it^s they, but it may be some 
of their gang. ’ ’ 

Swiftly the skiff glided across the river, Tod 
keeping a close watch upon the cabin. 

‘ ^ Give me the rifle and you take the shotgun, ^ ^ 
said Beam, in a low tone, as the boat touched 
the shore. Quietly they walked up the bank and 
headed for the cabin. They were half-way there, 
when a man appeared in the doorway. 

Beam took one look, and laughed in a relieved 
way. 

‘Ht’s old man Roper. He lives north of Dutch 
John, about half a mile.^^ 

The old farmer watched them intently until 
they reached the cabin, then he broke out ; 

‘‘Well, well; if it isnT Beam Foster and Tod 
Masters! I was half expectin’ to find a nest of 
chicken thieves here. Does this stuff belong to 
you boysT^ 

“Yes. We’re going to camp here a while. 
34 


MORE CALLERS 


35 


We found your chicken thieves this noon, when 
we reached here.’^ Beam extended his hand 
with a smile. 

‘‘Where are they nowT’ and Mr. Roper looked 
around inquiringly. 

“We had a little row with them, and finally 
drew cuts to see which should have the cabin, 
Tod chimed in, putting down his gun. 

“It was a queer looking place when we got 
here,’’ said Beam, leaning his rifle against the 
cabin; “chicken feathers, whiskey bottles, and 
dirt galore. ’ ’ 

“The durn rats have stole more’n twenty-five 
dollars’ worth of chickens from me,” announced 
Mr. Roper, with a look of sorrow and disgust. 

“Why didn’t you find their hiding-place 
sooner?” 

“We never thought of lookin’ out here on the 
river for them, until Silas Nicker’s boy was after 
the cows night afore last, about dusk, an’ he 
heard chickens squawkin’ on the bank of the 
river, an’ heard a boat rowin’ away. When he’d 
told us what he heard, I happen to think of the 
old Foster cabin, on Duck Island here, an’ 
thought I’d come over and investigate.” 

“You struck the right spot. There wasn’t but 
two of them that we saw, and I don’t think they 
will bother this locality right away,” replied 
Beam. 

“They stole more from Dutch John than they 
did from me.” 


36 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^They were a precious pair of rascals, and I 
hope we are rid of them,^^ Tod remarked, as he 
started to gather more wood for the camp stove. 

‘‘Better start the squirrel stew to cooking 
pretty soon. We’ll want an early supper to- 
night,” Beam suggested. 

“Just what I’m going to do. I’m hungry as 
a bear,” and Tod eyed the fat squirrels eagerly 
as he came out. “The old smoke house is get- 
ting pretty dry ; she will be all right to live in by 
to-morrow.” 

‘ ‘ So you boys are going to camp here a while, ’ ’ 
said Mr. Roper kindly, as he surveyed the supper 
preparations. 

“Yes. We are going to stay here until I’m 
well or dead. The doctors can’t do anything 
more for me.” 

“Oh, you’ll come out all right. Beam,” re- 
turned the old farmer heartily. “Just don’t 
worry about your trouble; and don’t forget, any 
time you boys want eggs, milk or vegetables, 
come right over to my house. The latch-string 
is always on the outside.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Roper, we will do so. And 
any time you want fresh fish, come to our live- 
box and get them. When we are settled and get 
down to business, fishing, we shall probably catch 
more than we can eat,” returned Beam gen- 
erously. 

“I’ll take that offer,” laughed Mr. Roper, “for 


MORE CALLERS 


37 


we are all fond of fish and don’t get time to catch 
many.” 

“Then don’t hesitate to come right here after 
them.” 

“Another thing I might mention, although I 
don’t suppose it amounts to anything,” and Mr. 
Eoper dropped his voice and looked around cau- 
tiously. “The Pearsons, who, you know, live 
just hack of the blutf, have reported seeing a 
light two or three times in the night, up near the 
head of the island. But I suppose it was these 
tramps prowling around.” 

“Yes, it was probably the tramps, all right. 
The chances are there won’t be any more lights, 
if they keep away. ’ ’ 

“Maybe the old island is haunted,” Tod said 
with a laugh, pausing as he passed with the pan 
of squirrels. 

“We don’t care whether it is or not,” returned 
Beam vigorously. “We’re not afraid of ghosts.” 

“Well, I must be going. I hope outdoor life 
will make you strong and well again, Beam. 
Good-bye, both of you, and don’t forget the eggs 
and milk,” and the kind-hearted farmer started 
across the island. 

“A good-hearted, honest old man, Silas Roper 
is. The world would be better otf if there were 
more like him,” Beam remarked atfectionately, 
as he watched the roughly dressed figure disap- 
pear in the wood. 


38 .YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Yes; those tramps might take a lesson from 
him/’ 

“Fellows like that don’t connt as men. 
They’re just simply whiskey swillers and thieves. 
They’ve passed the stage of reforming, if they 
ever reached it,” said Beam, beginning to busy 
himself in unpacking the things and storing them 
in the tent and cabin. 

“I’m afraid you didn’t get squirrels enough,” 
said Tod, as he started to peel the potatoes. 
‘ ‘ Seems as if I could eat three myself. ’ ’ 

“Fill up on potatoes and river water if they 
run short. ’ ’ 

“ I ’ll fill up on something. ’ ’ 

“Say, Tod, hadn’t we better burn the blankets 
those critters slept on? They’re probably popu- 
lous with live stock. ’ ’ 

“Yes; burn them. I dragged the old relics 
out with my thumb and finger. They’re piled up 
out back of the shanty. ’ ’ 

“It seems like a slaughter of the innocents, but 
self-preservation is the first law of nature; so 
here goes.” 

Five minutes later, the crackling flames were 
making sad havoc with the tramps’ bedding, 
which threw off an odor that would cause a self- 
respecting polecat to go out of business. 

“I ’most wish we had buried them,” com- 
mented Beam, coming around the cabin, hot and 
red from standing by the fire. 


MORE CALLERS 


39 


‘^That ought to be good for your lungs/’ 
laughed Tod, putting the potatoes on to cook. 

‘‘Probably better for my lungs than it is for 
my nose,” replied Beam, sniffing disdainfully 
with that organ. 

“Oh, forget the smell; that’s part of the 
circus,” and Tod broke into whistling “Buffalo 
Gals,” with complaisant cheerfulness. 

“The smoke from that bunch of sweetness 
ought to bring on a rain,” Beam commented, 
prowling around among the canned edibles. 

“The squirrels are coming on beautifully,” 
Tod called, coming out of the cabin with a very 
red face. 

“Hope they’ll go down just as beautifully. 
By the way, what are we going to eat on ? ” 

“That’s so, we haven’t any table. Oh, well, 
what’s the difference? We have eaten on the 
ground before, when we were out hunting ducks.” 

“We’ll knock a table together to-morrow, when 
we fix our live-box. Do you want canned cherries 
for supper 1 Mother put in enough canned stuff 
and preserves for a regiment, ’ ’ said Beam, hold- 
ing up a can ornamented with a very seductive 
looking bunch of cherries. 

“Yes, anything. I’m hungry enough to eat 
a raw dog. ’ ’ 

“I hope a week of this life will make me 
hungry; although I don’t ever expect to hanker 
for a raw dog.” 


40 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Well, you can^t tell. We’ll have you eating 
a two-pound catfish at a sitting in a few days. 
Come in and smell of these squirrels, and sweeten 
up your appetite with a good wholesome odor; 
you need it. ’ ’ 

“They do smell a little bit tempting,” Beam 
admitted, after sundry sniffs around the hot 
stove. 

Laughing, chatting, whistling and singing, the 
boys worked or loafed, as the occasion required, 
while their supper stewed and sputtered; Tod 
taking sundry peeps, salting, peppering, and so 
forth. 

“I flatter myself that we’re getting a pretty 
good scald on this squirrel stew,” he remarked, 
eyeing the piece de resistance with great satis- 
faction. 

“You’re getting a good scald on the atmos- 
phere in this room, too.” 

“I noticed that.” Tod wiped his steaming 
face, which glowed like a sunset, and walked to 
the door. “An August sun and a hot stove make 
a good combination for heat.” 

“I’ll be head waiter and set the table out here 
on the ground,” suggested Beam. 

“Yes, that’s all right; then we can sit on 
the ground and let our feet hang over. Supper ’s 
about ready. ’ ’ 

Five minutes later, supper was served on the 
ground, in the grateful shade of the trees, and 
two contented boys were kneeling about the smok- 


MORE CALLERS 


41 


ing edibles, and helping themselves without much 
formality to the tempting array of good things 
spread before them. 

^‘You seem to be hungry,’’ Beam commented, 
watching his companion spear potatoes, squirrel 
and bread, with considerable interest. 

‘‘Don’t mention it. I’m an allegory of hun- 
ger,” Tod replied, his jaws going with machine- 
like regularity. 

“What’s an allegory of hunger T’ 

“I’ll give it up. But that’s what I am.” 

Beam had finished his supper before Tod was 
fairly started, but in the course of time the lat- 
ter reached his limit, and announced with a grunt 
of satisfaction that he was through. 

“You must have a full cargo in the hold,” 
Beam remarked with an amused laugh. 

“I have; couldn’t hold another package,” and 
Tod patted his stomach contentedly. 

“Then you better go down to the river and 
wash otf the hatchway.” 

“All right, if you think I’d be handsomer,” 
and the devourer of squirrel stew strolled away 
to press the Mississippi into service as a finger- 
bowl. Then the camp duffle was stored away in 
the tent and cabin, a temporary bed fixed up in 
the former, and work ended for the day. 

The boys sat in the twilight watching the 
wide river gliding tranquilly by, while the deep- 
ening shadows crept over the island. 

One by one the twittering birds flitted away to 


42 yoUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


their nests among the trees and thickets, until no 
sign of bird life was visible. Then, presently, 
the ‘^night shift’’ began to be heard from. The 
crickets and katydids tuned up and played the 
first overture of the long summer night’s revelry. 
Bullfrogs took up the chorus and boomed out a 
far-reaching bass accompaniment, the harsh, 
croaking cry of a traveling bittern was added tp 
the sound, and the sweet, plaintive song of a shy 
whippoorwill, over among the Iowa bluffs, came 
floating across the waters. These night orgies 
are drowsy affairs. The very monotony of the 
music, like a mother’s lullaby, is conducive to rest 
and slumber. 

Not a steamboat had passed since the boys 
landed on the island, but as they sat there in 
the gathering gloom, talking or listening, as the 
mood seized them, the ‘^chow! chow!” of a raft 
boat was heard up the river. After a long in- 
terval, the blinking lights, scattered over the raft 
and steamer, appeared abreast of the island. 
The wheel at the stern churned along slowly and 
steadily, pushing the great raft of logs or lum- 
ber before it ; lanterns flitted here and there over 
the raft, looking, in the darkness, like somebody 
walking on the water. Soon the steamer and 
raft were far below, then they passed around a 
bend and were swallowed up in the darkness. 

‘‘I’m sleepy,” yawned Tod. 

“Second the motion,” Beam responded, and 
the vote being unanimous, ten minutes later they 


MORE CALLERS 


43 


were in the land of dreams, while throngh the 
long watches the night orchestra faithfully kept 
up its droning music for the benefit of belated 
fishermen, the whispering breezes, and a slumber- 
ing world. 


CHAPTER IV 


FISHING 

W HEN Tod awoke the next morning 
after a night of refreshing sleep he 
dressed and proceeded quietly to 
get breakfast in the tent, taking care not to dis- 
turb his companion, who for the first time in 
many weeks was sleeping soundly. 

The tent, however, was near the cabin, which 
was soon filled with the appetizing odor of fried 
bacon and cotfee. 

‘^Hello called Beam, waking and rubbing his 
eyes to make sure he was not still dreaming, ‘‘did 
you stay up all night with the crickets and bull 
frogs r’ 

“No, but I like to get up and smell the fresh 
morning air. Isn’t it a great tonic?” 

“Yes,” said Beam, “I believe my lungs feel 
better already; but it occurs to me that a few 
slices of that bacon wouldn’t be a bad tonic, 
either. How many eggs?” he queried later, 
when breakfast was ready. 

“Oh, I could eat a dozen, but I suppose I’ll have 
to get along with two,” said Tod, sipping his hot 
coffee. “I wonder if we can pick up boards 
enough to make a table?” 

44 


FISHING 


45 


We ’ll rig np some sort of a table. And we 
mustn’t forget our live-box, either; here, take 
my other egg. I don’t want it, and I notice you 
eyeing it pretty sharp.” 

‘^Thanks awfully. I — I hadn’t noticed it 
much, but we mustn’t let it go to waste. That 
wouldn’t be economy, you know,” murmured 
Tod, quietly sliding the extra egg to his own plate 
without further ceremony. 

^‘No, of course not,” with a demure grin. 

The last egg was vanishing from Tod’s plate, 
when Beam looked up with sudden animation : 

^‘Say,” he said, there used to be a little 
old table here under the trees somewhere. I re- 
member seeing it a couple of years ago.” 

Probably been carried away by the high water 
or fishermen.” Tod gave a sigh of content as 
he finished his last mouthful. 

Let’s take a look, anyhow, before we start to 
build one.” 

^‘All right, me Lud, after we clear away the 
remains of our feast. ’ ’ 

‘‘Humph! Nothing to clear away but the 
plates and cups,” Beam commented briefly, run- 
ning his eye over the empty dishes. 

“All the better. A short horse is soon cur- 
ried,” Tod returned cheerfully, gathering them 
up and starting for the river. 

“Don’t you want some soap?” 

“No. Sand beats soap all hollow for scouring 
dishes.” 


46 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^^Go ahead; you’re the doctor. Meanwhile, 
I’m going to hunt for that old table,” said Beam, 
starting down among the trees. 

In the gentle current of the Mississippi Tod 
finished his dish washing in short order. 

When he returned to the cabin. Beam was no- 
where in sight. 

He ’ll have a good time finding that table,” he 
mused, might as well look for a needle in a 
haymow. I’ll straighten up inside a bit, and get 
ready to move in, while he’s o:ff on his wild goose 
chase. ’ ’ 

Tod was deep in the ‘^straightening up” proc- 
ess, when he suddenly remembered something. 

“There; we never ran that set-line. Great 
fishermen we are ! ’ ’ 

Then he heard a distinct thump outside, and a 
voice called out : 

“There’s your old table. All it needs is a 
cleaning and another leg,” and Beam poked his 
head through the doorway. 

“Found it, eh? That’s more luck than I ex- 
pected. Tough looking old wreck, but we’ll fix 
on another leg in a jitfy. Where did you find 
it?” inquired Tod, surveying the ancient relic 
approvingly. 

“Oh, down in a brush pile, where it had floated 
in high water. ’ ’ 

“And say. Beam, we haven’t run the line.” 

‘ ‘ I know it. You were snoring when we should 
have run it. You want to change your mode of 


FISHING 


47 


life and get up in the morning, as I do. The 
early bird gets the worm. ’ ’ 

What’s the use of worms'? We use minnows 
for bait, ’ ’ retorted Tod with a whimsical laugh. 

‘^We didn’t last night; we used frogs.” 

‘^Oh, that was just temporary. But — Hello! 
WTio is this coming? Well, if it isn’t Dutch 
John! I’ll wager he’s after chicken thieves, 
too.” 

^‘It’s John, all right. Good morning, Mr. 
Meister,” said Beam cordially. 

^‘Vell, veil; if it isn’t Beam und Tot! How is 
dis? I expect to fint schicken tieves, already,” 
and the old German looked around in a bewild- 
ered way, as he grasped Beam’s hand. 

‘^Pretty damaging evidence, John, that’s a 
fact.” Beam laughed and glanced about at the 
tell-tale feathers. 

^‘Beam’s an awful eater, but he ought to be 
ashamed of himself for trying to eat up all your 
chickens, ’ ’ said Tod gravely, with a slight droop 
of the eye. 

Mr. Meister looked up, caught the squint, and 
burst into a hearty laugh. 

^^Ha, ha! You not fool me so. Beamy not 
steal schickens ; I trade mit his fader forty years 
ago. ’ ’ 

After the laugh was over. Beam said : 

‘‘I’ll tell you all we know about the case, Mr. 
Meister. We came down yesterday to live in the 
old cabin a while, and found chicken feathers 


48 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


and bones and whiskey bottles scattered around, 
and fired two tramps off the island. They had 
evidently been living on the fat of the land for 
some time. But I don’t think they will come back 
here. ,We gave the rascals a pretty good send 
off.'’ 

The old farmer nodded wisely. 

‘‘I tawt it vas tramps. Efry day almost, da 
peg to eat, of my vimens, und den steal my 
s chickens at night. Gott in Himmel, is dere no 
law!” and the irate farmer shook his fist at 
imaginary tramps. 

‘‘The law is all right; the only trouble is to 
catch the thieves," Beam returned quietly. “A 
tramp is a rather troublesome proposition, as he 
is here to-day and there to-morrow. ’ ' 

“Yah, dat is so. I suppose I must stand it 
already," said Mr. Meister with a sigh of regret, 
as he turned to go. 

“Come over and see us any time you’re not 
busy." 

“Yah, I coom, und send der schildren over mit 
milk und eggs, sometime," was the kind reply. 
Then after a pause, he dropped his voice and 
added: “Did you poys see a light yet in der 
trees!" 

“No. What is this light they are talking 
about!" asked Beam curiously. 

“Vy, two, tree, a lot of times, a light he vas 
seen here in de night, oop und down, here und 
dere ; sometime in der top of der tree, und some- 


FISHING 


49 


time on der ground. Sometime he stay still, und 
sometime he wiggle about und wave around so, ’ ’ 
and Mr. Meister moved his hands to and fro 
gently in a semi-circle, to illustrate his words. 
‘‘Von night/’ he continued, “Pearson’s schildern 
dey hear groans und cries und shrieks, und dey 
run home scart to det.” 

“It was these tramps we fired, of course.” 

“Probably one of them ate too many of your 
chickens, John, and it gave him the stomach- 
ache,” put in Tod. 

The honest, dull-witted old farmer failed to see 
any joke in Tod’s remark. He took it literally, 
and his brow darkened. 

“Der blame tief! I wish I hat him here. I 
make his back und head ache, I bet you,” and 
he doubled up his fists and waved them about in 
a threatening manner. 

“Yes, I’m sorry we didn’t tickle them a little 
with quail shot when we had a chance,” said 
Beam half regretfully. 

“Nefer mind. Beamy; we catch him sometime 
und tump him goot,” nodded Mr. Meister, his 
broad, good-natured face relaxing into a smile. 

“That’s right, John. We’ll make sick looking 
tramps of them if they ever show up again. ’ ’ 

“Veil, goot-py, poys, I coom ofer sometime,” 
called Mr. Meister, starting across the island to 
his boat. 

“Those tramps have been having a picnic 
here,” said Beam as he watched the old farmer 


50 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


stride through the woods. ‘‘A few gymnastics 
with a lantern, and a groan or two, was enough 
to keep these credulous country people away 
while the thieves feasted on their yellow-legged 
chickens.’^ 

‘‘YouVe probably guessed the situation about 
right, but that doesn’t run our lines. If we 
hooked any fish, they’re liable to get away before 
we get there. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, we don’t care. We’ll get enough to eat, 
anyhow. We’re here to rest up and enjoy our- 
selves,” returned Beam composedly. 

The sun was well up in the heavens when the 
boys started across the river to their lines. Tod 
did the rowing, and as he swept up to the lower 
buoy, he said : 

“We probably won ’t get a thing this morning. ’ ’ 

“Tell you later.” 

“That frog’s gone, and the next, and the next. ” 

Tod rapidly re-baited the hooks as he pulled 
the boat up along the line. “Hello! There’s a 
jerk up ahead; good hard one, too. Probably a 
blue cat. Let up there, old man, you can’t get 
loose,” he advised, and half a minute later, a 
five-pound blue cat was flopping around in the 
boat, splashing spray over them. 

“Got an azure feline, anyhow,” commented 
Beam. ‘ ‘ There, quit your flopping. ’ ’ 

“ ‘Azure feline’ is good. A little bit swell, 
though, for a common blue catfish. No wonder 
it flops water on you. We’ll have to bail out,” 


FISHING 51 

commented Tod, dumping in another two- 
pounder of the same variety. 

‘‘That's the sum total of this trip," he re- 
marked a little later, as they reached the upper 
buoy. 

“That's plenty," said Beam, settling back in 
his seat as Tod picked up the oars. “We'll catch 
our fish with pole and line when we get settled. 
Then we'll get some redeyes and other high 
toned varieties. We just want to keep a few in 
the live-box for an emergency, and to give away 
to the farmers if any of them should happen to 
bring us over some milk or eggs. ' ' 

“We'll stow our stuff away in the cabin and 
then get at the box?" said Tod, with an inquir- 
ing look at his partner. 

The latter nodded. 

“Take everything in but the bed. I suppose 
it will be better for me to sleep out of doors 
while the weather is pleasant." 

“Of course. We can sleep out in the tent a 
good many weeks before it gets cold enough to 
drive us into the shanty. ' ' 

Arriving at the landing, they tied the two fish 
in the water on a string to keep them alive until 
the box was ready. Next they finished moving 
everything into the shanty except the bed, which 
was left in the tent. Then they were ready for 
the live-box. A number of pieces of boards were 
found scattered about, and when they ran short 


52 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

of boards, small saplings were cut and sawed the 
right length and nailed on. 

^‘She^s like the Dutchman's wife,’’ Tod re- 
marked after the box was completed, ‘‘not much 
for purty, but bully for strong! I’ll risk any 
fish getting out of there without help, ’ ’ and draw- 
ing the two catfish from the water and untying 
the string, he dumped them into the box which 
had been placed in the river and fastened to the 
shore with a line. 

By the time they had finished their task it was 
almost noon. 

Tod looked up at the sun. 

“It occurs to me that I’m hungry. How’s the 
invalid?” 

“I haven’t been hungry in a year,” returned 
Beam wearily, “but never mind me; go ahead 
and get what you like. I ’ll eat a bite, maybe. ’ ’ 

“We’ll change that; before snow flies you’ll 
be.rable to eat fried boots,” assured Tod, making 
a bee line for the camp larder, where he regaled 
himself on bread, pickles, cold ham, cheese, and 
other dainties. 

“Wish I could eat that way,” said Beam, who 
was contenting himself with a bit of bread and 
cheese. 

“Don’t have any fears about that. You’ll 
beat me on stowing away grub, before the river 
freezes.” 

Beam shook his head doubtingly. 


FISHING 


53 


‘‘I hope so, but I’m afraid not. Not that soon, 
anyhow. ’ ’ 

‘‘You haven’t coughed much to-day, and your 
lung hasn’t bled at all, has it?” 

“No, I haven’t seen any sign of blood to-day.” 

“That’s good. I believe we’re going to bring 
you out all right, down here in the woods,” cried 
Tod, nodding his head with an air of conviction. 

“I hope so ; we’ll try, anyhow. What shall we 
do this afternoon?” 

“Keep on straightening up and loaf. To- 
morrow we’ll look for some bass ground,” nurse 
Tod ordered, as he went on with his work with a 
cheery, contented whistle, while Beam loafed or 
helped, as he felt in the mood. 

So the long, qi^iet summer afternoon faded 
away. 

When the lengthening shadows warned them 
of approaching evening. Tod took the smaller 
catfish from the live-box, cleaned it and built a 
fire, and the savory odor of frying fish soon 
filled the air. 

“Nothing slow about this brand of catfish,” 
he remarked. 

“No, they are all right, though I prefer bass. 
And that reminds me, let ’s get up in the morning 
and see if we can’t catch a mess of bass before 
breakfast,” Beam replied. 

“That idea strikes me favorably, if you’ll 
agree to wake me. I’m a pretty soggy sleeper,” 
Tod confessed, deftly turning his fish. 


54 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


“I’ll agree to do that. We’ll make a haul 
the first thing with the minnow seine and get 
some fresh minnows.” 

“Yes, we can get plenty of them right out here 
at this first little bar. Gee, but this fish smells 
good 1 Beam, you might be setting the table. I 
guess we won’t need a clean table-cloth yet, will 
we?” Tod inquired with a wink, as he skipped 
about the stove. 

“I guess not; you scrubbed this old table up 
so it fairly glistens. The leg you made out of 
a sapling, though, doesn’t seem to match the 
rest of the woodwork very well,” Beam replied, 
quickly adorning the old relic with plates, pickles, 
bread, salt and pepper. 

In due time the supper was ready. Two empty 
boxes were pressed into service as seats, and 
Tod laid to and feasted, while Beam nibbled a 
little at this or that, watching his partner with 
an amused smile. 

“Catfish, bread and butter, and coffee makes 
a hilarious old supper I think,” observed the 
latter, pausing a moment to take breath, his 
plump, ruddy cheeks shining with fish oil. 

“Everything tastes good when one is hungry. 
It almost makes me hungry to see you enjoy it,” 
said Beam with a faint show of interest. 

“Mother says it was lucky I didn’t take to 
work as I did to victuals, or I would have worked 
myself to death,” remarked Tod with a chuckle, 
as he held out his cup for more coffee. 


FISHING 


55 


Beam laughed, but ended with a warning 
cough. 

‘‘I guess your mother has you sized up about 
right,’’ he said; seems to agree with you, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Of course it does. I never was sick in my 
life.” 

Even Tod ’s appetite had a limit, and he finally 
surrendered with a grunt of satisfaction. 

“Now we’ll wash the dishes and then rest 
under the trees.” 

Suiting the action to the word, the boys lolled 
upon the grass or sat upon the banks of the great 
river and watched the slow-gliding waters move 
past. They talked but little, then, the calm of 
the mighty river seemed to command silence. 

When dusk began to veil the blue waters, they 
went back under the spreading trees to the tent. 

Presently Tod, who was propped up against 
a tree, remarked: 

“Say, are the mosquitoes biting you much?” 
He made a grab for one, but missed it. 

“Are they? They aren’t doing anything 
else.” 

“Well, they’re just eating me up. Funny; I 
didn’t notice them much last night. Ouch! 
they’re not bashful about presenting their bills, 
either. I’m going to build a smudge,” and after 
sundry slaps and scratches, Tod leaped to his 
feet and began to gather brush. He soon had 
a small fire crackling and sparkling and then 


56 yOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


a blanket of green grass and weeds was spread 
over the flames. 

As the smoke began to roll out in great vol- 
umes, he said : 

‘‘There, Mosky! Fill your lungs with that. 
lUs good for what ails you.^’ 

“As Dutch John would say; ‘they don’t come 
scart pretty quick already’.” Beam was slap- 
ping industriously. 

“I’ll fool the critters,” muttered Tod, hold- 
ing his breath and stepping into the thick pall 
of smoke. Presently he emerged coughing and 
rubbing his eyes. 

“Your remedy,” Beam remarked dryly, “is 
like the man that tried to freeze the dog to death 
by holding him by the tail in a snow-bank. ’ ’ 

“Lucky thing your mother thought of the mos- 
quito-bar. We’ll have to fix it over the tent 
flap before we go to bed.” 

“Yes, but I don’t think they will be as bad 
as this every night. It’s still and muggy to- 
night, with no breeze.” 

“Did you bring any dope to rub on the skin 
and give them a bad taste in the mouth?” in- 
quired Tod, with another vicious slap. 

“Yes. I brought some oil of pennyroyal, and 
diluted carbolic acid. ’ ^ 

“I’ll take pennyroyal in mine. I’d rather 
have the mosquitoes bite me than smell the 
blamed carbolic. Just fix me up a dollar’s worth 


FISHING 57 

of pennyroyal, if you’re head prescription 
clerk. ’ ’ 

^‘No fixing up about it. Just take a little bit 
on the end of your finger and rub it over the 
skin. The mosquito is supposed to elevate its 
nose and retire in disgust from such a rank 
odor.” 

Bring on your pennyroyal! I want to see 
something that will disgust one of these critters 
besides suffocating it in smoke.” 

‘‘All right; you be getting out the mosquito- 
bar,” said Beam with a grin, and started for the 
medicine box. 

By the time Tod had found the netting. Beam 
was armed with a small vial of the aromatic oil. 

“Now just take a drop or two on the end of 
your finger and touch it lightly on the face and 
hands, here and there. You don’t need a solid 
coating of it. It’s the odor they object to,” he 
said, handing the vial to Tod, after anointing 
his own face. 

“The bottle’s so small. I’ll have to light a 
lantern to see it. Is this supposed to be enough 
to last all summer?” Tod asked, as he gingerly 
took the tiny vial and began to fresco his face 
and hands. 

“Don’t use much, it’s strong stuff, besides 
being costly. If we run out, we can get more 
uptown. I hope we won’t have many such 
nights as this.” 


58 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^^Amen to that last remark. Now, moskies, 
wait till the front door is fixed and then do your 
worst. 

The boys soon had the netting up and the tent 
flap open to let in the air. It was an unusually 
sultry night and in the drowsy summer air, after 
the mosquitoes ceased to pester them, both soon 
fell asleep. 

When Beam awoke it was after daylight, and 
he shook Tod vigorously. 

‘ ‘ Come, get into your clothes and get that min- 
now seine. We want to get after those bass.’’ 

‘^That’s so; we’re due to gather in some bass.” 

The magic of that word drove the sleep from 
Tod’s eyes, and he was dressed in short order. 

‘‘Let’s make the circuit on the island first, and 
see if there are any good spots we can reach 
from shore,” said Beam, who was already 
dressed. 

“Wise idea! Then, if we find a spot the bass 
inhabit, one of us can run down the shore most 
any old time and snake out a bass without taking 
the boat. Now I’m ready and here’s the seine. 
Where’s your pole? Got your same old lance- 
wood, I see. That’s the stuff.” 

“Yes,” said Beam with a smile, “I’ve had so 
many good times with this pole, it’s like one of 
the family. I’d hate awfully to part with it.” 

“That’s the way I feel about my old split 
bamboo. Come on. ’ ’ 


FISHING 


59 


A short distance below camp, a little bar jutted 
out into the river, and the water continued shal- 
low for some distance beyond. One haul with 
the seine, and they had minnows enough to fill 
the minnow bucket — ^more than they needed for 
their short trip. 

Five minutes later they were down the shore, 
looking for likely bass ground. 

The lower point of the island was rounded and 
they were coming up the west bank, when Tod 
spoke softly and eagerly: 

‘^See the minnows jumping up ahead, right 
close to the bank. That means bass, sure, this 
time of day. Go still, now.’’ 

see them. Let’s go back into the woods and 
come up to the bank easy and quiet. ’ ’ 

A few minutes later they were opposite the 
leaping schools of minnows and back a few yards 
from the bank. 

Let’s bait up here,” whispered Beam, exam- 
ining his hook. 

This was done, and pole in hand Beam tiptoed 
to the bank and dropped the wriggling minnow 
into the swift current. It had not drifted ten 
feet when there was a boil and jerk, and a bass 
had the juicy morsel. 

It was a pretty fight, but Beam was an old- 
timer and knew all the tricks of the cunning red- 
eye. Then Tod slipped quietly to the bank and 
as Beam drew the tired fish near the shore, he 
deftly dropped the landing net under the finny 


60 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


warrior and in a twinkling it was safely on shore. 

‘‘Say, but he’s a beauty. He’ll go three 
pounds,” he whispered in admiration as he dis- 
engaged the hook. 

“We’ll call him that anyhow,” Beam chuckled, 
as they squatted down out of sight and baited 
up again. 

“I want some of that pie, too;” Tod picked up 
his pole. 

“Go after them. There’s a hundred yards of 
bass ground along here.” 

In half an hour they had six as fine bass as 
any angler could wish. Then Tod remarked : 

“Haven’t we about enough for the first time? 
I’m getting hungry.” Beam laughed in an 
amused way. 

“Yes, let’s quit. I feel a little hungry my- 
self.” 

Tod needed no second invitation, and said as 
he strung the fish: 

“I’ll have two of those lads in the frying pan 
inside of fifteen minutes.” 

He headed the procession for home, with the 
remark that he could eat a raw mud-hen. 

Beam rejected the idea of raw mud-hen, but 
thought he could eat a fair-sized hunk of bass, 
whereat Tod cried, “Told you I’d get you hun- 
gry,” and let out another link in his legs. 

“What are you getting for this extra walk 
of yours?” Beam asked, as he hurried after his 
friend. 


FISHING 


61 


getting hungry,’’ squealed Tod, dodging 
limbs and jumping brush piles as nimbly as a 
cat. 

In ten minutes camp was reached. Tod fell 
to work cleaning two of the bass, while Beam 
put the other four in the live-box and built a 
fire in the stove. 

‘‘I’ll show you a breakfast fit for a king,” 
cried Tod gleefully, as he disappeared in the 
cabin. 

“All right; I’ll chop wood till breakfast is 
ready,” returned Beam, picking up the ax. 

Tod was right. Surely such delicious fish were 
never eaten before; crisp, sweet and savory. 
The invalid actually seemed to enjoy his break- 
fast. 

“It looks like old times to see you eat that 
way,” commented Tod as he poured another 
cup of coffee. 

“It seems like old times, too,” Beam admitted, 
“these fish really taste good.” 

“Oh, I can beat Doc Hall any time on lung 
trouble. ’ ’ 

“But you know this is Doc Hall’s prescrip- 
tion.” 

“That’s all right, but we filled the prescrip- 
tion with the right kind of medicine. You might 
have gone out in the country to a farm house, 
or some fashionable resort, and sat under a tree 
meditating upon your sins for four years and it 
wouldn’t have helped you as much as a month 


62 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


of this kind of life where you slam through the 
woods, fighting mosquitoes, killing snakes, catch- 
ing bass, rowing a boat, or dozing under a tree ; ’ ’ 
and Tod was forced to stop eating to finish his 
long-winded remarks. 

Beam laughed. 

‘‘DonT get too enthusiastic. It may not cure 
me, after all.’^ 

Pshaw! Of course it will. You travel with 
me and I’ll wager a seven dollar shotgun against 
a nine dollar dog, that you’re tough as a pine- 
knot inside of a year.” 

‘‘That makes me think, I wish we had Nibs, 
my old setter, down here now. He would come 
handy to help locate woodcock. But the boats 
were loaded down, and then he is such a comfort 
to mother when I’m away. However, if we find 
any cock ground, we can kick out a few; enough 
to eat.” 

After breakfast, the boys ran the trot-line, 
taking off three more catfish. Then they took 
the canoe and paddled entirely around the island, 
going at an easy gait, and keeping their eyes out 
for fishing ground, birds and animals. Paddling 
slowly up the west shore, a lithe, slender animal 
flashed out from under a fallen tree, and disap- 
peared over the bank. 

“That looks good. We’ll remember that gen- 
tleman when trapping time comes,” said Beam 
with an eager dance of the eye, as Tod cried out : 

‘ ‘ Look ! There goes a mink. ’ ’ 


FISHING 


63 


noticed a number of good muskrat holes, 
too, along the bank. ^ ’ 

‘‘Yes, and several coon signs.’’ 

“Say, Beam, see how near you can come to 
that chap with the 22,” said Tod, pointing to a 
crow perched on a limb a hundred yards ahead, 
cawing restlessly. 

Beam dropped his paddle and picked up the 
little rifle. 

“Quick! He’ll fly in a second,” Tod warned. 

As he spoke, the rifle cracked and the watch- 
ful crow dropped headlong into the current. 

“Well, if that wasn’t a beauty of a shot! I 
had no idea you’d hit him,” was the admiring 
comment. 

“I happened to have in a long-rifle cartridge,” 
Beam explained with a smile of triumph, as he 
reloaded. 

‘ ‘ There ought to be a bounty on those fellows. 
They destroy more birds’ eggs than all the 
skunks and weasels,” said Tod as the crow 
drifted past. 

“I think so, too, and I never lose a chance to 
shoot one of them.” 

It was almost noon when the boys made the 
circuit of the island and paddled up to the land- 
ing. After lunch they loafed, read, and shot at 
a target with the “22.” That evening as they 
sat listening to the bullfrogs and crickets, before 
retiring. Tod remarked: 

“Hutch John’s lights and shrieks don’t show 


64 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


up since we fired those tramps. That was a 
pretty cute scheme on their part. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, that^s too plain; it was the tramps, all 
right. We won^t be bothered with any lights.’^ 
“It doesn^t take much to scare a farmer, if 
it’s something a little out of the ordinary.” 

“No, five cents worth of fireworks will keep 
them wondering and imagining things for a 
year,” and Beam opened his mouth in a pro- 
digious yawn. 

Ah! if the boys could only have known what 
caused those lights. 


CHAPTER V 


LOAFING AND LOCATING 

B eam was awake at the first break of 
dawn, and, quickly dressing, he slipped 
out of the tent, leaving Tod snoring away 
beautifully. Stepping into the canoe he slipped 
across the river and ran the line, taking off two 
blue cats, two yellow bellies, a big mouth bass, 
and a sand pike. Then he took a quiet run up 
the other shore, pausing now and then to draw 
deep breaths of the cool, bracing air. A solemn 
hush brooded over forest and river, broken oc- 
casionally by the twitter of a bird or the hoot 
of an owl high up in some old tree. As he 
paddled along near shore, evidence of bird life 
became more apparent, and by the time he turned 
the bow of the canoe toward camp. Nature’s 
children were all up and dressed and busy hunt- 
ing their breakfast. 

It was after sunrise when he reached the land- 
ing, and Tod was there to receive him. 

‘‘You rather stole a march on me, didn’t you*?” 
“Yes, I hated to disturb that snore of yours. 
The exhaust was working finely, although I 
thought it sounded as if you were pounding a 
little on the left side. ’ ’ 


65 


66 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I was just pounding my left ear, that was 
all. Hello, you ran the lines. Got some fish, 
too; guess Idl let you run them every time. I 
came down after a couple of those bass for break- 
fast, but as these are handy Vll just take this 
bass and pike, instead,’’ and he gathered up the 
two fish, while Beam, after tying the canoe, tossed 
the other fish into the live-box. 

^‘Are you as hungry as you were yesterday 
morning?” asked Tod, coming out with the fork 
in his hand, after he had the fish nicely frying. 

‘‘I don’t know but I am. I believe those fish 
will taste good. ’ ’ 

‘‘It makes a fellow so jolly hungry to hustle 
around a bit before breakfast; gee! I mustn’t let 
those fish burn,” cried Tod, darting back into the 
cabin. 

Half an hour later, as they sat at breakfast. 
Beam said: 

“I must admit these chaps taste mighty good. 
I believe I could eat another piece.” 

“That’s the stuff. That’s what I like to 
hear.” Tod dropped another generous helping 
on his friend’s plate and then “what’s the pro- 
gramme to-day?” he inquired, as they swallowed 
the last delicious morsel of fish. 

“Suppose we go over to the Illinois side and 
see if we can’t locate some fresh woodcock plug- 
ging, and some wood-duck ponds. I haven’t 
hunted over there lately, but there used to be a 
number of swales and ponds in the timber.” 


LOAFING AND LOCATING 


67 


“That’s as good as anything. It’ll keep ns 
hustling around, and maybe add a little fresh 
meat to our larder. ’ ’ 

“I think I put in some shells loaded with num- 
ber 10 ’s,” said Beam, going to the ammunition 
box. “Yes, here are plenty of them. If we 
run across any wood-duck, 10 ’s will do for them, 
too. I’ve killed lots of them with 10 ’s, when 
out after woodcock. ’ ’ 

“So have I. They’re easy to kill at this time 
of year ; most of them are young birds, ’ ’ Tod re- 
plied, hurrying through with the morning dishes. 

Half an hour later they were ready. 

“Shall we take a bottle of water?” asked Tod. 

“No,” Beam replied, “we won’t be gone long. 
I don’t want to walk too far the first time. I’d 
just like to see what the show is for cocks and 
Woodies.” 

Tod took the oars and they were soon across 
the river. 

“There’s a swale just beyond the pinoak 
ridge, ’ ’ remarked his companion as they climbed 
the bank. “I did my first woodcock shooting 
with father over in there when I was about knee 
high to a cat. ’ ’ 

“The timber has been cut off a lot of late 
years,” Tod answered as they started out 
through the grass and trees. 

“Yes, I see it has. Don’t look like the same 
ground. ’ ’ 

Soon they came to a narrow ridge on which 


68 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


grew scrubby pinoaks, standing like sentinels 
among tbe growth of saplings and underbrush. 

‘‘Here’s that swale you mentioned. A little 
water in it, too. Looks like a likely place for 
cocks,” said Tod in a low tone, taking the gun 
from his shoulder and holding it at ready. 

They had gone but a short distance, when he 
stopped and exclaimed: “Here’s a bunch of 
plugging as big as a water pail, that hasn’t been 
made five minutes, according to my judgment.” 

Beam stepped up and surveyed the pencil-like 
holes. 

“They’re fresh, all right. There’s a cock or 
two within twenty feet of us, probably. But 
they may not flush. Wish we had the — ” A 
brown flash and a twitter answered him, and a 
woodcock darted up and whipped over the bank 
through the foliage. One swift movement of 
Beam’s gun, followed by a quick report, and a 
shower of riddled leaves and twigs came drifting 
down. 

“Did you get him?” 

‘ ‘ Couldn ’t tell. I shot where I thought he was. 
If I caught him, he’ll be just at the top of the 
bank.” Beam pushed in a fresh shell and 
slipped the safety. 

“We’ll know in a minute,” said Tod, stepping 
ahead cautiously. 

Zip ! twitter ! and another bird whistled away, 
followed by still another, but the boys had been 


LOAFING AND LOCATING 


69 


through that sort of experience many times and 
were not flustered in the least. 

Tod^s gun roared, followed by two reports 
from Beam, and more leaves fluttered down. 

“Any casualties queried Beam, hurriedly 
reloading. 

“I think mine subsided. If he didnT, Ifll 
always think he’d ought to, for I tunneled a hole 
through the leaves right after him, ’ ’ Tod replied, 
and his face wore a look of confidence as he 
changed shells. 

“Mine swung across the swale and I had to 
give him the second barrel, but I think he’s at 
the foot of that ball willow over there, waiting 
for us.” 

“We jumped into a regular nest of them, but 
we ’ll hardly keep this up very long. ’ ’ 

“No, we’ve probably got up the last one here. 
Let’s look for dead birds.” 

Beam was right, for no more were flushed in 
that spot. 

“Here’s mine,” called Tod triumphantly. 

“And here is my last one,” Beam answered 
from across the swale. “Now look for my first 
one. He ought to be at the top of the bank there 
somewhere. ’ ’ 

But thorough search failed to reveal any more 
dead birds. 

“Guess you didn’t point the old gun right.” 

“Maybe not. I shot where I thought he ought 


70 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


to be, but be must have taken a side dart just 
as I pulled.’^ 

The boys walked slowly up the swale, one on 
either side. Some plugging was found, but no 
more birds flushed. As they neared the upper 
end the water grew deeper and the rushes more 
luxuriant. Suddenly a frightened squeal brought 
them up standing, and a pair of wood-ducks 
sprang from the water and sailed through the 
tree tops. The squeal was followed by a whist- 
ling twitter, and another woodcock darted away. 

Bang ! Bang ! Bang I In five seconds it was 
all over. 

“Looks as if they didn’t fool anybody very 
much; I got both of the woodies,” Beam re- 
marked with a laugh. 

“You’ll find that brown bunch of lightning 
in the water just ahead of you. Thought I’d 
attend to him and let you prescribe for the 
ducks,” said Tod, brimming over with satisfac- 
tion. 

Beam waded out in his rubber boots and picked 
up the cock, and then the ducks were gathered 
in. 

“Hadn’t better kill much more,” Tod sug- 
gested, as they stood resting a bit on the bank. 

“No, the weather is too warm. We must clean 
these and eat them right away. They won’t 
keep long.” 

“Fried wood-duck for supper and woodcock 


LOAFING AND LOCATING 71 

for breakfast/^ was tbe way Tod settled the 
matter, and the boys wandered on. 

They found other swales and ponds large and 
small. A good deal of plugging was noticed, 
showing that birds were numerous. Several 
more were flushed, as were also several bunches 
and pairs of wood-ducks, but the boys did not 
shoot any more, although sorely tempted. They 
had been taught to shoot no more game than they 
could use, and so withstood the temptation. 

^‘A little bit tough, laughed Beam, after half 
a dozen woodcock had darted away from under 
their feet and a family of wood-ducks flushed 
within twenty yards of them, ‘^but they will keep 
till some other time. We have a mortgage on 
most of them.^’ 

“No, we don’t want to waste any such deli- 
cious grub as this, and we haven ’t any ice, ’ ’ Tod 
replied. 

“And besides,” said Beam as they started for 
camp, “we can run over here and get a mess of 
woodcock or ducks any time we feel like it.” 

They were standing on the bank of a little 
rush-grown pond a moment, peering about to see 
if a family of wood-ducks could be sighted, when 
Beam suddenly said in a low voice : 

“Stand perfectly still. Tod.” 

The latter was aware that his companion’s 
gun was being pointed at something, and stood 
motionless in expectant wonder. 


72 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


The crack of Beam’s gun broke the stillness, 
and Tod looked around in astonishment. 

‘‘What’s up? What are you shooting at?” 
then he followed Beam’s gaze, and saw the rem- 
nants of a big black water-snake within two feet 
of his legs. 

“He was just getting ready to take a nip out 
of the calf of your leg.” 

“Thanks, awfully. Ugh! I hate snakes,” and 
Tod lost no time in getting away from that lo- 
cality. 

They were then within a quarter of a mile 
of the boat, and were not sorry when they reached 
the bank of the Mississippi. 

“Gee, it feels good to squat down on an old 
boat seat again.” Beam breathed a sigh of re- 
lief as he dropped wearily on the stern seat. 

“Perhaps I’ve taken you on too long a walk,” 
said Tod anxiously, as he took the oars. 

‘ ‘ Oh, no. Just my legs are tired. You headed 
the procession a little bit fast after that snake 
episode.” 

Tod laughed and shivered as he got under 
way. 

“Maybe I did. Ugh! I hate snakes. Never 
was bitten, either; and I don’t hanker to be.” 

“Can’t say that I’m particularly crazy about 
them.” Beam took a woodcock from his hunt- 
ing coat and began to disrobe it, dropping the 
feathers in the stream. 

“That’s right. Get the clothes off those fel- 


LOAFING AND LOCATING 


73 


lows soon as possible and get them cleaned; 
they ^11 keep better,’’ Tod remarked approvingly, 
as he pulled away. 

Beam had the feathers deftly stripped from 
the three woodcock by the time they had reached 
the landing. Taking out his knife he remarked: 

‘‘I’ll just take the mechanism out of these 
gentlemen while I’m over the water, where the 
debris can float away, instead of decaying around 
the cabin and calling up the weasels and skunks. ’ ’ 

“Good head! You know most as much as I 
do,” Tod nodded approvingly once more. Then 
he added: 

“You just rest in the shade till lunch time, 
after you finish that job; I’ll clean the ducks.” 

Beam, nothing loath, obeyed the instructions of 
his physician, and it did seem good to stretch 
his tired limbs in the shade after their long 
tramp. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE STKANGE LIGHT 

M ost of the afternoon was spent in 
loafing, dozing, and talking. Tod 
made a couple of three-legged stools 
for seats to use in place of the boxes. Later in 
the day they ran the set-line, taking oft two cat- 
fish and a German carp. 

‘Hf those farmers don’t come after some fish 
pretty soon, we’ll have a box full,” said Tod as 
he dropped the fish in the live-box. 

“I expected some of them before this, but 
they’re probably busy,” Beam replied as they 
fastened the boat and went to the cabin. 

And so, in rowing, fishing, sleeping, walking, 
and shooting an occasional woodcock or wood- 
duck, the days passed. Beam coughed a little 
at first and tired very easily, but every day it 
could be noted that he grew stronger and his 
appetite gradually returned. This pleased Tod 
greatly. 

We’ll have you weighing part of a ton inside 
of six months,” he cried gleefully, one day in 
September, after they had been in camp a couple 
of weeks. 

Beam laughed. 


74 


THE STRANGE LIGHT 


75 


^‘You are certainly all right, when it conies to 
furnishing the material for an appetite. The 
soreness is getting out of my lung, too, I’m glad 
to say, ’ ’ and he tapped his breast lightly. 

‘‘Yes, you cough hardly any of late. Just 
wait till the crisp, frosty nights and the ducks 
come; you’ll be ready to jump a ten-rail fence.” 

“I will if I keep on improving this way.” 

“Come to think of it, isn’t it about time I 
rowed up home and reported to your folks and 
Doc Hall? Your mother will be imagining all 
sorts of things.” 

“I suppose you had better go up, although I 
don’t believe they’re worrying much, unless it 
is mother. You remember the old saying; ‘No 
news is good news.’ ” 

“I know, but just the same your mother is 
worrying and wondering how you are coming on ; 
whether you are improving or not. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, she naturally would. You might go 
up to-morrow and report, and bring back what 
supplies we need. ’ ’ 

Accordingly, the following day. Tod started 
up the river, leaving Beam to run the camp. 
The latter alternately read and dozed until the 
day had waxed and waned and the sun slanted 
well toward the west. Then he took his fishing- 
rod and walked down to the bass ground where 
they made their first catch. In half an hour he 
had two fine bass, and returned to camp. Then 
he busied himself preparing supper. When it 


76 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


was about ready, be beard Tod at tbe landing, 
and presently tbe latter appeared, loaded with 
bundles and packages. 

‘‘Gee, but I^m tired. Is supper ready! I’m 
hungrier than seven coyotes,” be cried, drop- 
ping bis load and tumbling on tbe grass. 

“Almost; you’re just in time. Wbat’s in that 
big bundle!” asked Beam, as be paused in bis 
supper getting and surveyed a bulky package. 

Tod chuckled. 

“Three woolen blankets. I went to see Doc 
Hall, and told him bow you were getting along. 
He was tickled to death, and told me to tell you 
to keep on sleeping out in tbe tent all tbe fall 
and winter, too, if necessary. Said it was the 
best thing in tbe world for you. He made me 
go down to your bouse and get some more woolen 
blankets. Maybe your mother wasn’t tickled, 
too, when I told her bow you were improving.” 

Beam’s face softened with filial love. 

“Bless her heart! Of course she was. Did 
you see father ! ’ ’ 

“No, be was out of town. Doc Hall told me 
to be sure and see that you kept on sleeping in 
tbe tent. If you don’t, I’m to lick you.” 

“Well, you want to burry up about it or you’ll 
have bard sledding. ’ ’ 

“That’s what I told Doc, but be laughed and 
said he’d come down and help.” 

“Wonder if he expects me to sleep out in tbe 
tent if it gets twenty below zero!” 


THE STRANGE LIGHT 77 

course. The colder it is, the better it will 
be for your lungs.” 

^^We^ll see about that later on. Perhaps I’ll 
get used to it gradually and like cold air to 
sleep in. But go and sprinkle some river water 
over your features, and get ready for supper. 
I suppose you’ll eat everything in sight, after 
rowing eight miles.” 

will if I can hold it,” Tod called over his 
shoulder as he made a dash for the river. He 
was back so quickly that Beam said : 

‘‘Mighty quick toilet. I’m afraid you only 
gave it ‘ a lick and a promise. ’ ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That ’s enough when a fellow is as hungry as 
I am. What have you got for supper 1 ’ ’ 

“Oh, not much. Pried bass, boiled potatoes,** 
bread and butter, cheese, pickles, and a few other 
dainties. ’ ’ 

“That’s all right, if the quantity holds out. 
That ’s quite an item, you must remember, ’ ’ said 
Tod with a chuckle, as he began spearing fish, 
potatoes, bread, etc., with the savage relish of 
a camper. 

“The way you start in, there won’t be much 
left, ’ ’ remarked Beam as he poured the coffee. 

“Not if I can hold it. Gee, but that fish smells 
good,” sniffed Tod, inhaling the aroma of the 
smoking bass gratefully. 

“How’s everybody up town?” 

“All right; everybody that I saw. Didn’t 
manage to see any of the boys.” 


78 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^They’ll probably be stringing down here 
when the ducks come.’’ 

‘‘Sure they will. We’ll have company enough 
then.” 

They retired early, for Tod was tired and 
sleepy after his long row. 

In five minutes he was in the land of dreams, 
his troubles over for the day. 

But Beam was not so fortunate. He had not 
exercised very much that day, and was restless. 
Once or twice, when almost asleep, he awoke 
with a start. Then he was wider awake than 
before. Finally he became disgusted, and slip- 
ping out of bed, dressed, and went out into the 
air. 

The night was clear and still, the air soft and 
pleasant. The heavens were gemmed with 
twinkling stars, and there was no moon to dim 
their soft radiance. The “Bands of Orion” 
were well up in the east, showing that fall was 
at hand. The long dim tail of the constellation 
hung down from the “Ell and Yard,” the bril- 
liance of the three upper stars contrasting 
sharply with their fainter companions. 

Beam walked down to the river and sat on the 
bank. Except for a few hardy crickets, the night 
orchestra was still. By the dim light of the 
stars he could just make out the surface of the 
water. 

Beam was never wider awake than now. It 
was barely light enough to trace the hands of 


THE STRANGE LIGHT 


79 


his watch, which pointed to 11 ; 30. He uttered 
an exclamation of impatience. 

^‘Why canT I sleep like other folks! Tod’s 
been snoring for four hours. Guess I’ll jump 
into the canoe and take a paddle. The exercise 
will be good for me, if it doesn’t act as a sleep- 
ing powder.” 

Untying the canoe, he stepped in and paddled 
out into the current. 

Then he headed the craft upstream and bent 
to the paddle. He was an old hand at the work, 
and moved noiselessly as a shadow. 

When abreast of the upper end of the island, 
his quick ear caught the sound of an oar lightly 
striking against a boat. He eased up, just hold- 
ing the canoe stationary in the current. 

^ ‘ Some belated fishermen, ’ ’ he said to himself ; 
‘‘funny I didn’t hear them rowing.” 

He remained perfectly still, listening with all 
his ears. 

Presently, to his surprise, a light flashed out 
among the trees on the island. He had just time 
to mutter : ‘ ‘ There ’s Dutch J ohn ’s light, ’ ’ when 
it flashed out again and darkness reigned. 
Straining his ears, he could catch the occasional 
snapping of a twig or the rustle of a leaf. 

Beam was fully alert now, and greatly puzzled. 
What was happening on the island ? Fishermen 
wouldn’t act that way. Fishermen didn’t use 
dark lanterns. Beam was entirely devoid of 
fear, but the apparent mystery of the odd occur- 


80 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


rence appealed to him, and he softly worked the 
canoe toward shore. Finally he was within 
thirty yards of the bank, and remained motion- 
less and secure, listening. 

After a while the light flashed again among the 
trees, then went out. 

This occurred several times, the flash never 
lasting more than five seconds. Then all was 
dark and silent, for what seemed to him in his 
present state of mind, an age. After a long wait, 
he caught another sound. It was very faint and 
he couldnT quite place it, but it suggested the 
soft closing of a door. Presently he heard leaves 
rustling again. There was not the faintest 
breeze stirring, so he knew that air could not 
cause the rustle. Then he heard a slight noise 
at the hank and thought he heard a soft whisper, 
but was not sure. 

Beam had lived on the river all his life and 
was thoroughly familiar with every boat sound. 
He now felt, rather than heard, that a boat was 
being rowed softly up along the bank. He 
stayed perfectly still until he heard a faint but 
unmistakable sound, showing that the boat was 
above the island and still going up the river. 

Then he softly turned the canoe and paddled 
to camp, muttering to himself : 

‘‘Well, if that doesn’t beat me. Some skull- 
duggery going on, or it looks that way. ’ ’ 

Then the mystery part went out of his head 
and he laughed to himself : 


THE STRANGE LIGHT 


81 


‘‘Pshaw! Probably I can come up in the 
morning and explain the whole thing. No nse 
to make a mountain out of a mole-hill. ’ ’ 

Tod was still wrapped in a forty-fathom sleep 
when Beam slipped into the tent. It was after 
one o’clock and his recent exercise had tired 
him. He pondered over the solution of the mys- 
tery for some time, but finally dismissed it from 
his mind, and in a few moments was with Tod 
in the land of dreams. 


CHAPTEE VII 


A VISIT FROM HOME 

W HEN Tod awoke next morning, 
Beam, oblivious to earthly cares, 
was slumbering as peacefully as an 
infant. Tod, knowing nothing of his partner's 
little boat ride and knowing him generally for a 
light sleeper, naturally wondered thereat. But 
he was too philosophical to let it bother him and 
only yawned and murmured as he dressed : 

‘‘Wonder what struck him to sleep so late. 
Probably rolled and tumbled the first half of the 
night. Let him sleep till breakfast is ready, if 
he wants to,’^ and with these remarks, he began 
preparing the morning meal. Half an hour 
later he called out: 

“Breakfast is now ready in the dining car. 
Wake up and pay for your lodging.’’ 

Beam heard the cheery call and opened his 
eyes. 

“Land sakes, did I sleep till breakfast was 
ready? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“What’s the use of calling you? Our time 
ain’t worth more’n four dollars a minute, and 
I didn’t need you puttering around the break- 
82 


A VISIT FROM HOME 83 

fast. Go out and throw some river water in 
your face and then come and chew.’’ 

‘‘Aye, lad, I’ll be there in seven-thirds of a 
minute,” returned Beam briskly, hurrying into 
his clothes. 

“I suspected you didn’t sleep much the first 
half of the night. How many eggs can you 
eat?” said Tod, taking up the ham and starting 
to break the eggs in the spider. 

“Oh, two is enough for any white man. I had 
to go out and take a spin on the river before I 
could get to sleep.” 

“I supposed you were up to some sort of 
midnight deviltry. But hurry up now, ’ ’ as Beam 
started for the river; “these eggs will be ready 
in a jiffy.” 

“Say, but that tastes good,” was Beam’s 
comment five minutes later, as he set his teeth 
into a bite of sweet country ham. 

“Of course it tastes good,” agreed Tod; 
“anything tastes good out in the woods. Sup- 
posing, of course,” he added, “that somebody’s 
at the helm who knows how to cook.” 

“I suppose that does make a difference,” mur- 
mured Beam demurely, stirring his coffee. 

After breakfast was finished and the “kitchen 
work” out of the way Tod propounded the 
query : 

“What is it to-day — ^hunt, fish, or loaf?” 

“Oh, I don’t care a copper what we do,” 
yawned Beam; “I feel so peaceful and content 


84 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


after that breakfast. Suppose we hold down the 
old log on the bank awhile, and think it over and 
watch the boats go by.^^ 

^‘Pretty hard work,’^ commented Tod, ‘^but 
we can try it a spell, and if you get weary drop 
it and tackle something easier. ^ ’ 

There ^s the smoke of a raftboat coming up 
the river,’’ said Beam, as they seated themselves 
on the old log. ‘‘Let’s see if we can guess her 
identity. Which one do you say?” 

Tod listened a moment and shook his head. 

“I never could train my ear down fine enough 
to get on to the particular exhaust of any of 
them; and there’s so blamed many. But for luck 
I’ll guess the ‘Lizzie Gardner.’ 

“I have a hunch it’s the ‘Denkman,’ ” opinedi 
Beam, after listening a moment. 

“We both stand a good chance of missing it,” 
Tod observed, shying a pebble at a mud turtle’s 
head out in the river, “for there’s about seven- 
ty-five rafters plying up and down the river. 
Duck your head, old man, and get in out of the 
wet.” 

The steamer, puffing and coughing its way up 
the Mississippi, soon came in view. The boys 
strained their eyes to catch the name, and pres- 
ently Tod said : 

“It ain’t the ‘Gardner,’ sure. So that lets me 
out.” 

“Believe I hit it,” remarked Beam, peering 
over the waste of waters. 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


85 


‘‘I believe you did, too. Yes, sir, that’s her, — = 
‘F. C. A. Denkman.’ Good guess.” 

‘‘I remembered that she went down with a raft 
a few days ago and was about due up,” con- 
fessed Beam with a laugh, as the boat churned 
past. 

‘^Wise lad. Now can you tell who’s in that ' 
skiff coming down?” observed Tod, pointing up 
the shore. 

Beam took a long look and then said : 

‘‘That’s beyond me. But we’ll probably 
know soon.” 

“Wonder if it’s somebody coming to see us?” 
speculated Tod. 

As the skiff drew nearer. Beam said: 

“If my eyes see straight, that party in the 
stern seat is my respected dad.” 

“That’s just who it is,” Tod cried with sud- 
den animation, “and that’s Chip Marsh rowing 
him.” 

“Right again,” smiled Beam, his face light- 
ing up with pleasure. “Mother is at the bottom 
of that trip. I’ll venture.” 

“Boat, ahoy!” called Tod, as the skiff drew 
near. 

The rower paused from his labors and turned 
around. 

“Duck island, ahoy! What’s the show for a 
couple of tramps?” 

“All kinds of a show,” returned Beam 
heartily, as they walked down to the shore. 


86 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘The spare bedroom is vacant and the cook just 
aching to spread himself. Hello, father ! 
How’s mother and the rest?” Beam seized the 
skiff and pulled it up on the sand, and his hand 
was soon grasped in his father’s firm, warm 
clasp. 

‘ ‘ She is very well. Tod brought us good news 
of you, but I had been intending for some time 
to find out for myself just how you are progress- 
ing.” Then, after looking him over critically, 
“I am surprised and delighted to see you look- 
ing so much stronger. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I feel a different person. I’ll be able 
to eat more than Tod in a short time, and you 
know what that means.” 

“That’s good news. Your mother will be 
happy when she hears that.” 

“Bless her old heart! Tell her I haven’t for- 
gotten her, ’ ’ said Beam warmly. 

“By the way,” Mr. Foster remarked when 
they reached the top of the bank, “I have a 
basket of jelly, preserves, etc., that mother sent 
down. She thought you might need them later 
on. Why didn’t you make me think of them. 
Chip?” 

“Don’t ask me to remember anything,” re- 
turned Marsh with a laugh; “I am in luck to 
keep track of my head. But I’ll go get them,” 
and he went back to the skiff. ‘ ‘ Better leave the 
lunch in the boat, hadn’t we?” he called. 

“Yes,” Mr. Foster replied; then, turning to 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


87 


Beam, may look for some fish after a hit, 
and need it. I brought my fish rod along.’’ 

^‘That’s right. We’ll go out and look for 
some bass, after you ’ye sized up the joint and 
rested awhile.” 

^‘Gee, there’s goodies in there, I’m thinking. 
Beam,” grinned Tod, as Chip came up with a 
well-filled basket; ‘Gt makes a fellow’s mouth 
water to look at it.” 

Trust you to get your share of them,” re- 
turned Beam with a short laugh. 

‘‘How is the fishing?” interrupted Mr. Foster. 
“Have you boys found any new bass ground?” 

“Yes,” Beam replied, “there’s a strip of shore 
down the west side of the island, where they bite 
fairly well sometimes. But I’ve a notion to try 
the running slough to-day. What do you think 
of it. Tod?” 

“We might try it. We haven’t been over that 
ground very much. I don’t suppose your father 
cares where he goes, just so there’s a show to 
nail a bass.” 

“Not in the least,” Mr. Foster replied, as they 
entered the cabin; “we’ll go wherever you boys 
think best.” 

“All right, then. Cook, take the basket and 
put away the groceries and we’ll get ready. 
Don’t forget to put up a little lunch,” ordered 
Beam. 

“We have lunch enough for all of us, I guess,” 
said Mr. Foster, dropping into a seat. 


88 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Well, if Tod wants to chance it, all right, 
remarked Beam resignedly. 

A half hour’s rest and chat, and then the boys 
gathered their fishing tackle and they all re- 
paired to the landing. 

“Better take both boats,” suggested Beam; 
“four of us makes a pretty big boat load.” 

“I suppose so,” said Mr. Foster. “You and 
Tod go ahead and we’ll follow.” 

They reached the other side of the river and 
landed. Beam remarking, as they pulled up the 
boats : 

“The slough is only about forty rods through 
the timber.” 

A few minutes later they stood on the bank. 

“Now,” said Chip Marsh, “you fellows that 
want to fish for bass, rustle for yourselves. As 
for me, I’m looking for a croppie or sunfish 
hole.” 

Beam pointed up the shore about fifty yards. 

‘ ‘ That looks like your kind of ground up there. 
An old submerged tree and a brush pile. You’ll 
find plenty of clams for bait along that shore, so 
you won’t need the minnie bucket.” 

“No, I don’t want it. You and your dad take 
the minnie bucket and Tod and I will skirmish 
for clams. Come on. Tod; we’ll go up and catch 
a string of croppies, and let these fellows hunt 
for bass. Bass fishing is too much work for me. ’ ’ 

“All right. I’d just as soon fish for croppies 
to-day as anything.” 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


89 


So saying, Tod picked up his fish pole and 
followed Chip along the bank to the old sunken 
tree, while Beam and his father went down the 
stream looking for likely bass ground. The cur- 
rent was very sluggish, but half a mile below the 
stream narrowed and the current was swifter. 

At that point the water ran over pebbles and 
sand, with a soft, rippling murmur so soothing to 
the soul of the woods lover. 

‘‘We ought to get a mess of big-mouth along 
here,” said Beam softly, as they came to the 
bank. 

“It looks promising,” replied Mr. Foster, in 
the same low tone, taking his rod out of the case. 

In five minutes they were both hard at work 
trying to lure the wary bass from his watery 
den. 

Mr. Foster got the first strike and it proved 
one of the best on the trip. Beam was thirty 
yards below him, trailing his minnow seductively 
around through the gurgling waters, when he 
happened to glance up toward his father. In- 
stantly he saw that something was doing. The 
stout split bamboo was bent at right angles and 
the line, far out in the rippling water, showed 
plainly that something exceedingly lively was 
fastened to the end of it. Beam watched the 
fight anxiously for a few moments, then suddenly 
he saw a big bass leap three feet straight up in 
the air and shake its head like an angry dog. 
Beam saw it was a fine fellow and the thought 


90 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


of losing it was too mncli for his equanimity. 

Quickly reeling up his line he ran up the shore 
to the scene of the struggle. 

‘‘DonT you lose him, dad, or I’ll lick you.” 

A grim smile played over Mr. Foster’s face 
and he stood like a rock, keenly on the alert for 
every move of his cunning foe. 

‘‘If the line holds, and I lose him, you can lick 
me. Be ready with the landing net. ’ ’ 

Beam seized the landing net and stood watch- 
ing the fight. 

Up and down, in and out, here and there, sulk- 
ing and plunging, the fierce fighting bass strove 
for his liberty. But alas for its chances of es- 
cape! a veteran held the butt of that rod, one 
who knew every trick and device of his wily ad- 
versary. It was a good twenty-minute fight. 
Two or three times Beam started forward with 
the landing net, but each time the quarry took a 
new lease of life and shot out into the stream 
again. 

“It’s a small-mouth, or he’d never fight that 
way,” said Beam admiringly, after the third 
dash-away. 

“I think so. But he is tiring fast now. Be 
ready and I’ll lead him up to the bank very 
soon.” 

Mr. Foster was right. In a minute more the 
scaly warrior lay gasping on his side near the 
shore, and Beam had the supreme satisfaction of 
slipping the net under the tired body. 



“suddenly he saw a big bass leap up in the air” — Page 89 


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A VISIT FROM HOME 


91 


^^My, but be’s a peach!’’ Beam ejaculated, as 
he brought the big fellow to the top of the bank 
where his father stood. 

^‘He surely is,” said Mr. Foster admiringly, 
as Beam disengaged the hook from the gaping 
mouth, ‘‘and he put up the prettiest fight I have 
had in many a day. It’s worth the trip down 
here if we don’t get another strike.” 

“He’ll run close to four pounds,” guessed 
Beam, holding the vanquished small-mouth out 
at arm’s length by the gills. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if he did,” agreed his 
father, re-baiting his hook and casting again in 
the stream. 

Beam tied the fish in the water and went back 
to his own grounds, with the remark : 

“I’m afraid that commotion has spoiled your 
fishing here for the present.” 

Half an hour’s fishing proved that he was 
right, for Mr. Foster got no more strikes there, 
although Beam caught two smaller ones down 
below. 

Then they went to the foot of the swift water, 
and changing to a couple of light, small spoons, 
caught half a dozen pickerel. 

“Hadn’t we better go up and find the boys 
and have lunch ? ’ ’ suggested Beam. ‘ ‘ They seem 
to have quit biting.” 

“I suppose so. We have a fair string, any- 
how.” And Mr. Foster proceeded to gather up 
the fish. 


92 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

Five minutes later they were on their way back 
to where they had left Tod and Chip Marsh. 

‘‘There they are/’ cried Beam as they neared 
the old tree, “both out on the old sunken tree — 
Tod roosting on one limb and Chip on another. 
That’s just about lazy enough fishing to suit 
Chip.” 

“Hello!” he called a moment later, as they 
stood on the bank by the upturned roots of the 
old tree. “Haven’t you lads got a mess yet!” 

“You know it,” Tod answered promptly. 
“I’ve had all I could do to keep Chip out of the 
lunch basket until you chaps got back. He in- 
sists that it’s lunch time.” 

“Lay it to me if you’re ashamed of it,” re- 
torted Chip. “All you lacked was the nerve to 
get into the basket before they got back,” and 
as he spoke he pulled a wriggling sunfish from 
the water. 

“I suppose we may as well eat one time as an- 
other. It’s about eleven-thirty,” said Beam, 
looking at his watch. “I’ll put my fish in the 
water and then father and I will set the table,” 
and he walked down to the water. 

‘ ‘ Gee, but you’ve got a daisy bass there,” cried 
Tod, turning to look at Beam’s string. 

“It sure is. And my respected parent caught 
it all by his own self. ’ ’ 

“It takes the Old Man to catch the big ones,” 
winked Chip, as he pulled up his hook and walked 
the log ashore. 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


93 


Where’s your fish!” asked Beam. 

^^Oh, they’re hanging from a limb down in the 
water. Come on, Tod, if you’re hungry.” 

^ ^ If I ’m hungry ! Of course I ’m hungry, ’ ’ said 
Tod, following his partner ashore. 

Ten minutes later they were investigating the 
lunch basket, and four pairs of contented jaws 
were working rhythmically. After lunch Chip 
filled his pipe and had a smoke while they dis- 
cussed their fishing exploits. An hour had 
passed when Beam said: 

‘‘I guess we’ve got fish enough. We might go 
over to camp and let father take his regular after- 
noon nap. What do you say ! ’ ’ 

^^I’m agreeable,” returned Chip, putting away 
his pipe. 

Never mind me, boys, if you want to fish any 
more,” protested Mr. Foster, but Beam’s quick 
eye saw that he looked drowsy. 

‘^No, we have fish enough,” he said, springing 
to his feet. Let’s go to camp. Bring up your 
strings of fish. ’ ’ 

Tod and Marsh went out on the old tree and 
each pulled up a string of sunfish and croppies 
about eighteen inches long. Soon after they 
were on their way across the Mississippi. 
Everything at camp was found all right and 
Beam insisted on his father going into the cabin 
and taking his regular nap, while the others sat 
upon the old log on the bank and talked and 
watched the ever interesting ‘ ^ Father of waters.” 


94 yoUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

It was about three-thirty when Mr. Foster 
came out. 

‘‘Well, Chip,’’ he said, “I suppose we had bet- 
ter start back. It takes longer to go home 
against the current, you know. ’ ’ 

“I suppose so. I’m ready,” yawned Chip. 

“Don’t be in a hurry,” Beam said. “Chip 
ought to make it in a couple of hours. ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, it will be nearly supper time when 
we get home,” returned Mr. Foster. 

“Veil, veil, if here ain’t Hiram Foster,” cried 
a well-known voice, and looking around, they saw 
Mr. Meister approaching. 

“How do you do, John. Glad to see you,” re- 
turned Mr. Foster cordially, extending his hand. 

“Ain’t you a leetle out of your latitude yet?” 
beamed John, grasping the outstretched hand. 

“I guess so. But mother wanted to know how 
Beam was coming on, so she sent me down to in- 
vestigate.” 

“We takes care of Beamy, all right,” said Mr. 
Meister. “Don’t you tink he look better al- 
ready?” 

“Very much. His mother will be greatly 
pleased to learn of his improvement.” 

“I bet she vill. We haf him strong und 
hearty pretty quick yet, if he stay in de voods a 
few months,” affirmed John. 

“I hope so. I want him to stay here until he 
is tough and rugged again. I’m satisfied this is 
the way to do it instead of doping with medi- 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


95 


cine. I want you to come over and see tlie boys 
once in a while so that when you come up town 
you can keep me posted on how they are getting 
along.’’ 

^‘Yaw, I do dat,” agreed Mr. Meister, de- 
lighted at the responsibility. ‘^Und de old 
voman, she send a few tings. I set him down by 
de shanty still,” and John waved his hand to- 
ward the camp. 

The ^^few things” consisted of half a bushel of 
ripe harvest apples, a two-pound jar of butter, 
a gallon of milk, two dozen fresh eggs, and a 
glass of jelly. 

Isn’t it bully?” exclaimed Tod, surveying 
this array of country dainties. 

‘^Our many thanks to you and your wife for 
your kind thoughtfulness,” said Beam. 

‘^And mother sent down a basket of goodies, 
so I guess they won’t starve right away,” smiled 
Mr. Foster. 

‘^We can handle lots of raw material,” insin- 
uated Tod, which remark raised a general laugh. 

We are just starting for home, so I’ll bid you 
good-bye and hope to see you up town soon,” 
said Mr. Foster, extending his hand again. 

^Waw, I coom soon,” returned John, taking 
the proffered hand. Then as Chip and the boys 
had started to walk down to the bank, John 
dropped his voice and said : 

‘^Did Beam say anytings apout de lights und 
noises?” 


96 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^^No. What lights and noises do you meanU’ 
asked Mr. Foster, looking at the stolid old Ger- 
man curiously. 

Then Mr. Meister told him what he had told 
Beam, about the strange lights and the noises 
that had been seen and heard on the island. 

After he had concluded, Mr. Foster said 
quietly : 

‘‘You don’t believe such nonsense as that, do 
you, John?” 

“Veil, I don’t know. I don’t see why beobles 
lie apout it all de time,” and John scratched his 
head with a perplexed air. 

Mr. Foster smiled and said: 

“I guess you will find those tramps the boys 
fired when they got here could explain the mys- 
tery of any lights and noises. They were living 
on the fat of the land and didn’t want to be both- 
ered with people coming over here, so they 
hatched up a little scheme to keep them away. 
That’s the way I figure it out. I don’t think the 
boys have been bothered by any such disturb- 
ances. At least they haven’t said anything 
about it to me. And I think they would if any- 
thing unusual had occurred. So, if I were you, 
I would just dismiss the matter from my mind 
and forget it. I don’t think you will hear any- 
thing more about it.” 

“Veil, maybe dot is so,” said John hesitat- 
ingly. 

“Of course it’s so. Good-bye, and keep track 


A VISIT FROM HOME 


97 


of the boys as I told you,” and Mr. Foster 
started for the landing. A hearty handshake, 
a kind good-bye, and the little craft was away up 
the river, keeping well in shore to avoid the stiff 
current. 

The boys watched the boat till it was lost to 
view, then turned on their way back to the camp. 
Before leaving them, Mr. Meister said : 

‘‘Your fader, he don’t take no stock in dose 
lights und noises folks see. He tink dose tramps 
make ’em.” 

“That’s about the size of it,” Tod replied. 
“We haven’t seen or heard anything.” 

Beam made no comment. He had thought 
once or twice, while his father was there, of 
speaking to him about what he had seen, but 
now he was glad he hadn’t, and dismissed the 
matter from his mind, feeling satisfied that there 
was some simple explanation for it all. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A VISITOE AND A THUNDEE-STOKM 

^ AY,’’ remarked Tod suddenly, the next 

day, as they sat discussing various 
things, ‘^hadn’t I better make arrange- 
ments the next time I go uptown, about shipping 
the ducks and other game we kill? If we’re 
going to pay our expenses down here by shooting 
ducks, we’ve got to have a place to ship to. 
Savey?” 

‘^That’s so,” assented Beam. was thinking 
about that the other day. Better see to it the 
next time you go up. Go to Baden & King. 
They do most of the game shipping for the 
boys.” 

^‘You know, Tom and Jim promised to help 
us out this fall,” Tod continued, ‘‘and if they 
do, there’s going to be something done in the 
duck-shooting line with the four of us turned 
loose.” 

“Yes, we’ll try to make it interesting for the 
web-feet. ’ ’ 

“It’s a case of ‘got to,’ this fall,” Tod went 
on with emphasis. “It’s the only way we have 
of raising expense money.” 

“By the way,” remarked Beam, “it’s almost 
98 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 99 


time we were getting after the blue-winged teal. 
About all we have killed here so far have been 
woodies. Before long the teal ought to begin 
to gather in the ponds and buck-boles. Quite a 
few nest on these bottoms, and teal come south 
early. 

‘‘Yes, we must take a romp over through the 
woods some day pretty soon and see if we can 
run across any,’’ Tod replied, his eyes glisten- 
ing as they always did when a duck hunt was 
mentioned. 

“And don’t put it off too long, bringing down 
our fall shells.” 

“No, I won’t forget that, you may be sure.” 

“I know I’m getting better, for I’m just ach- 
ing for an old-fashioned whirl among the ducks,” 
said Beam, with a hungry, wistful look over the 
broad river. 

“I’m aching a little, myself, so I must be im- 
proving too.” 

“You won’t if you don’t stop eating so much.” 

“Pshaw! I’m not eating anything now to 
what I will when it gets frosty and the north- 
west blizzards howl around our cabin. ’ ’ 

“Then, when you are up after shells, better 
make some arrangements with the undertaker.” 

“And what I eat then,” went on Tod, “is 
nothing to what I shall probably eat in the win- 
ter, when it freezes up and we get to trapping 
and hunting coon and rabbit. Then you will see 
a pretty good imitation of a square meal. ’ ’ 


100 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Beam threw iip his hands. 

“DonT figure any farther ahead, for goodness’ 
sake. We’ll have to put our ducks in cold stor- 
age for you, instead of shipping them.” 

‘‘Oh, you won’t be so far behind me, after you 
get your second wind.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll never travel in your class,” 
laughed Beam. 

“Time will tell; but isn’t it about time to take 
our daily paddle 1 ’ ’ 

“I guess so. We might take the ski:ff for a 
change to-day.” 

“All right. Anything goes with me,” Tod 
answered heartily. 

A two-hour spin on the river, under the steady 
swing of two pairs of oars, followed, and the 
boys returned and took a good long rest. 

Beam found himself growing less and less 
fatigued every day, after these jaunts on the 
river. The fresh, pure air and vigorous exer- 
cise were doing wonders for his lungs. 

They were sitting under the trees after their 
trip, when Tod suddenly said : 

“Hello I Who is this coming, I wonder?” 

“Some hunter, probably,” returned Beam, as 
a man stepped out of a small boat, tied it, and 
came toward them with a gun on his shoulder. 

“I never saw him before,” said Tod, in a low 
tone, as the stranger approached. 

“Good afternoon, boys. Taking it easy?” he 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 101 


asked, stopping before them and dropping the 
butt of his fowling-piece on the ground. 

He was a large, athletic fellow, with a cool gray 
eye and a general air of ease and self-confidence. 

‘‘Yes, sir. We have been out for a little row, 
and are just taking a rest,’^ replied Beam re- 
spectfully. “Take a chair on the ground. It^s 
all we have, ’ ^ he added with a smile. 

“Thanks. DonT care if I do. lUs quite a 
little row down here, from uptown, and I^m 
somewhat tired; haven T rowed much lately,^’ 
and the stranger dropped on the ground with the 
easy grace of one accustomed to it. 

After a moment’s rest, he remarked: 

“I may as well introduce myself at once. You 
are Beam Foster, I believe,” and he looked at 
Beam. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, my name is Johnson; Abner Johnson. 
I’m on the road for “Darby & Hamer” of Chi- 
cago. Here’s a note of introduction from your 
father, ’ ’ handing Beam a folded slip of paper. 

,The latter took it and read : 

“Dear Beam: 

“This will introduce Mr. Abner Johnson, a travel- 
ing man from Chicago. He is a ‘duck crank ^ like the 
rest of us, and is combining pleasure with business. 
Any favors you may show him will be appreciated by 
your 


“Father. 


102 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘T. S. 

‘‘We are all greatly delighted with the way you are 
improving. I should advise you to stay all winter, 
if necessary, and Doc. Hall says, don’t be afraid to 
sleep in the tent in the coldest weather. He says it’s 
the best tonic you could have. 

Beam folded the paper and reached out his 
hand. 

“Make yourself at home, Mr. Johnson. This 
is Tod Masters, my partner. Have you had your 
lunch r’ 

“Yes, thank you. I brought some sandwiches 
and ate them drifting along in the boat. ’ ’ 

“WhaUs your specialty,’’ said Beam, “hunt- 
ing or fishing ? ’ ’ 

“Either or both. I brought both gun and 
fish pole along, hoping I might shoot a mess of 
ducks and catch a string of fish to take back. 
I just want to see the country and have a day 
or two’s outing. I knew it wasn’t quite late 
enough for the northern ducks, but your father 
thought I might find a few local wood-ducks, 
teal, or mallard.” 

“You won’t have any trouble getting a mess 
of them, ’ ’ put in Tod. ‘ ‘ That is, ’ ’ he added with 
a laugh, “if you don’t want too many. Beam 
and I can show you where to locate them. ’ ’ 

“We were just planning to go across into the 
bottoms to-morrow and see if any teal had come 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 103 


down. We can all go now/’ Beam proposed 
cordially. 

‘‘Thank yon. That will just suit me. And 
now, remember, I don’t want you hoys to go to 
any extra trouble or fussing on my account. I’m 
used to roughing it. I can eat anything, and 
sleep in a barrel or under a tree. ’ ’ 

“You won’t get any frills here. We sleep in 
the tent, and you can have the whole cabin floor 
to yourself. We have some extra blankets.” 

“That’s all right. Good enough for anybody. 
I brought a couple of blankets with me, and as 
it isn’t very cool yet, they will probably be 
enough. It won’t be the first time I’ve slept on 
the soft side of a pine board ; ’ ’ and their visitor 
laughed in such a jolly way that the boys felt 
drawn toward him. 

“We might take our fish poles and see if we 
can get a bass this evening, if you wish,” said 
Beam. 

“Just the thing. I’m ready any minute,” 
Johnson gleefully cried, springing to his feet 
with the alacrity of a boy. 

Beam and Tod both smiled at his enthusiasm, 
and Tod said : 

“You and Beam take your fish poles and clear 
out, and I ’ll get supper. ’ ’ / 

Beam nodded toward their guest, with the re- 
mark: 

“That’s good enough for us. Come on,” and 


104 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

in ten minutes they had their rods, some minnows 
out of the little minnow live-box, and were going 
down the island. 

‘‘Your father tells me this life is helping you 
more than the doctors, said Mr. Johnson as 
he dodged limbs and brush, trying to keep up 
with Beam’s long stride. 

“Yes, sir. Very much more. In fact, the 
doctors gave me up,” returned Beam quietly, 
“but it looks as if I might pull through if I stay 
out in the woods. ’ ’ 

“I’m a great believer in outdoor life for any 
ailment. Mother Nature has the only cure-all.” 

“Sh — Go easy now, sir; the bass lie right 
along this steep bank, in the swift water. Better 
bait up here. ’ ’ 

In five minutes both had minnows in the water, 
and were as silent and watchful as a couple of 
cats. Presently Beam, who was above, saw his 
companion hook a fish, and watched the fight. 
The vigorous and lively antics of that bass would 
have satisfied the most fastidious angler. In 
and out ; up and down ; here and there, went the 
finny warrior, using every artifice known to his 
cunning tribe, but evidently a master hand held 
the rod, for his tricks were in vain. Sulking, 
leaping, diving, and running, he was finally tired 
out, and Beam, who cared more for his compan- 
ion’s success than his own, stole down the bank 
with the landing-net, and a moment later the 
red-eyed fighter was gasping on the bank. 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 105 


^^Say, but that was luck. I never saw bass 
fight the way they do here,’^ said Mr. Johnson, 
his eyes fairly dancing with excitement and 
triumph. 

^MUs the cold, swift water. We won’t catch 
them very much later,” replied Beam, deftly 
slipping otf the fish, and re-baiting the hook. 

Twice more his companion repeated the per- 
formance, and Beam, who took matters more 
leisurely, caught one. Then he announced that 
supper would be ready on their return, and they 
called it off. 

^‘That’s worth the trip down, if I don’t kill a 
duck,” said Mr. Johnson enthusiastically as they 
trudged back. 

see you’re an old-timer,” laughed Beam. 

‘‘Yes, I’ve caught bass all over the United 
States, and I’ll say right now, that I never struck 
any harder fighters than you have here.” 

“Can you eat fried cat, Mr. Johnson!” Tod 
called out, rather irreverently, as they came up. 

‘ ‘ Can I ! You just wait and see, ’ ’ was the jolly 
reply as their guest leaned his fish rod up against 
a tree. 

“It’s mighty lucky you can, for we didn’t have 
any bass or pike in the live-box, ’ ’ explained Tod, 
wiping the perspiration from his steaming, rosy 
face. 

Mr. Johnson noticed it, and remarked : 

“You ought to have a gasoline stove to cook 
on in warm weather. ’ ’ 


106 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Excuse me. Not while the undersigned does 
the cooking; I’m afraid of the stuff.” 

Mr. Johnson proved to have a hearty appetite, 
and complimented Tod’s cooking, to that gentle- 
man’s satisfaction. 

After supper they stretched out under the 
trees and watched the deepening shadows slowly 
but surely draw the curtain of night over a 
drowsy world. 

‘‘Many skiffs or flatboats pass up and down 
hereU’ asked Mr. Johnson. 

“Not many,” Beam replied. “Occasionally a 
houseboat drifts by, and sometimes a skiff -load 
of hunters or fishermen.” 

“Any of them ever land here?” 

“Not often; once or twice a boat has stopped 
to make an inquiry about something. ’ ’ 

“You don’t see many strangers, then?” 

“Very few. Sometimes we won’t see a soul 
for two or three days. The farmers over back 
of the bluff drop down occasionally, bringing us 
eggs and milk, and we give them a mess of fish. 
That’s one reason I like it here, it’s so quiet 
and peaceful and away from the world. ’ ’ 

“We had to fire a couple of tramps when we 
arrived here,” put in Tod. “They had taken 
possession, and didn’t want to leave, either, but 
Beam persuaded them to leave with a shotgun. ’ ’ 

Mr. Johnson turned toward Tod with a barely 
perceptible show of interest. 

“A couple of tramps, eh? What sort of look- 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 107 


ing fellows were they ; ordinary river tramps, or 
the country variety 1 ’ ’ 

‘‘Why, one of them was short, squatty and 
greasy, and the other was shorter, squattier and 
greasier. I didn’t notice them particularly; 
didn’t have time. I remember that one of them 
called the other ‘ Snoopy. ’ ’ ’ 

“They weren’t river tramps,” added Beam; 
“just the common greasy farm and country 
tramp. ’ ’ 

“What were they doing on the island, think?” 

Mr. Johnson dropped back into his former 
easy, listless attitude. 

“Oh, I suppose they ran across an old punt, 
discovered this cabin and made it their head- 
quarters to prey on the farmers over the bluff.” 

“That’s probably the explanation,” yawned 
Mr. Johnson. “By the way, do the owls hoot 
much around here ? ’ ’ 

“Yes; they hoot every night and morning. 
We’ve got so we don’t pay any attention to it.” 

The trio talked until the evening was well ad- 
vanced, it was so pleasant and restful under the 
trees. They discussed hunting and fishing, and 
Mr. Johnson asked all sorts of questions, some 
of them queer indeed. Once, for instance, he 
asked the boys if they ever heard any strange 
noises or cries. 

“Nothing but loons and owls,” replied Tod, 
covertly exchanging glances with Beam. 

‘ ‘ Any very high land on the island ? ’ ’ 


108 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^ ‘ At the upper end it gets pretty high. Several 
rocky mounds, something like Indian mounds,’’ 
said Beam, recalling his explorations. 

‘ Hs it above high water ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Yes, sir. Quite a good deal above. ’ ’ 
Gradually the talk died down and yawns be- 
came more frequent. Soon after nine o’clock a 
bed was made on the floor of the cabin for the 
visitor, and the trio retired to rest. 

Beam was awake with the dawn as usual, and 
dressing, he aroused Tod and went out into the 
air. It was a glorious morning, and he drew in 
great draughts of the cool, pure air. Then he 
walked down to the landing to look at the river, 
always his first chore in the morning. 

‘‘Hello! Mr. Johnson’s boat got loose in the 
night and drifted away. That’s a nice note. 
Now we’ll have to hurry down the river after it. 
If it was only lucky enough to get snagged some- 
where! I didn’t look. I supposed he would 
have sense enough to tie a boat so it wouldn’t 
get loose;” and muttering to himself in a dis- 
gusted way. Beam hurried back to the tent. 

“Get a move on you! Johnson’s boat got 
loose in the night, and we’ll probably have to go 
hunt it. Get a bite to eat, and we ’ll be otf . ’ ’ 

“Is that so? I’ll have to wake him to get at 
the cook-stove. I don’t propose to start off on 
a long row without my breakfast. ’ ’ 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 109 


^‘Wake him, of course. He’ll want to get up, 
anyhow.” 

Tod walked over and tapped lightly on the 
cabin door. No answer. He rapped again, more 
firmly. No answer. He gave another resound- 
ing knock, and as there was still no answer, lifted 
the latch and walked in. 

Neither Mr. Johnson nor his bed was there. 

‘^He’s gone; bed and all,” .Tod called in great 
astonishment. 

Beam hurried into the cabin. 

‘^Well, if that doesn’t beat time! Guess his 
boat didn’t drift very far,” he added grimly. 

‘^How do you explain it?” queried Tod in 
great perplexity. 

don’t explain it. We’ll have our breakfast 
first, just the same as if he was here. Then we’ll 
figure on it.” 

‘‘Here’s a note,” cried Tod. 

“Let’s see it.” 

Beam took the scrap of paper and read : 

“Friends Beam and .Tod: 

“I regret to say I have been called away suddenly in 
the night. Will see you again soon as possible and 
explain. With many thanks for your hospitality, 
Yours, 

“Abner Johnson.'” 

“That helps a little,” said Tod with a sigh of 
relief. ‘ ‘ He isn ’t a robber, anyhow. ’ ’ 


110 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘ ^ Somebody must have rowed down in the night 
after him, and they didn’t wake us,” his com- 
panion mused thoughtfully. 

^‘Probably an important telegram came in the 
night, and he left orders to bring it down,” 
nodded Tod wisely. 

“That sounds plausible. But perhaps father 
can explain when you go up after the shells.” 

“Probably. Of course, the man is all right, 
or your father wouldn’t have recommended him. ’ ’ 

“Sure thing; you can bank on that proposi- 
tion.” 

“You don’t suppose he could have forged that 
note?” Tod remarked as an idea came into his 
head. 

Beam shook his head. 

“That was father’s writing; I know it too well. 
He’ll surely explain matters when we see him.” 

“Anyhow, we’re saved a long row chasing his 
skiff,” Tod concluded with a sigh of relief, as 
he started to get breakfast. 

After the meal was over and the dishes washed, 
he said : 

“What shall we do to-day?” 

Beam thought a moment, and said: “Just 
lounge around and take things easy. ’ ’ And they 
did. Sheltered among the trees as they were, 
they paid little attention to the weather. 

It was well along in the afternoon when Tod 
said : 

“Seems to me it feels like a storm.” 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 111 


‘^IVe been thinking that same thing. Air 
feels muggy and close. DonT see any clouds, 
though;’’ Beam was peering through the trees 
at the patches of blue sky. 

.. ‘‘It’s doubtless a thunder-storm and hasn’t 
got here yet,” yawned Tod; “guess I’ll get 
supper and have it out of the way before it gets 
here.” 

“You’ll have plenty of time. I doubt if it 
gets here before dark.” Beam was right. Sup- 
per was over, dishes out of the way, and they 
were sitting in the gloaming, before the first 
faint growl of thunder came to their ears. 

Tod banged a mosquito over the head as he 
remarked : 

“There’s the first gun of the battle. Wish it 
would hurry up and drown out these pesky 
mosquitoes.” 

Beam patiently watched a big hungry insect 
fill its provision bag with blood from the back 
of his hand, then delivered a short-arm blow that 
stopped further blood-letting. 

“Mosquitoes are always worse just before a 
thunder-storm, ’ ’ he replied, contemplating the re- 
mains of his victim with great satisfaction. 

Tod slapped and smashed at a few more 
winged warriors and then sprang to his feet. 

“I hate to put dope on myself for such a short 
time. These chaps will let up as soon as it be- 
gins to rain.” He walked to the bank to get a 
better view of the sky. 


112 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^‘We’re going to have a regular old-fashioned 
ring-tail peeler, I’m telling you. ’ ’ 

Beam walked down to his side and took a sur- 
vey of the angry heavens. 

‘‘It looks that way. Maybe we had better 
chance the cabin for a sleeping ground to-night ; 
although the tent is made of the best ten-ounce 
duck. ’ ’ 

“If it’s an ordinary thunder-storm, it ought to 
be over in an hour or two after it starts. By the 
way the thunder growls, it’s getting nearer pretty 
fast now. ’ ’ 

“Yes, there’s the first breath of wind. It has 
changed and is coming right from the storm. We 
better make things snug in the tent and cabin.” 

A faint moan of wind sighed gently through 
the tree tops. Gradually it increased in force 
and velocity until a good-sized gale was in prog- 
ress. After discussing the situation, the boys 
decided to carry the bedding into the cabin. This 
was quickly done and then the tent flaps were 
securely tied. By the time everything was in 
shape, it was, according to Tod, “as dark as the 
inside of a cow,” and the pattering raindrops 
began to fall. 

“There, come in out of the wet and let her 
pour, while we watch it out of the window,” said 
Tod, leading the way into the cabin. 

Soon the storm broke in all its fury. The rain 
came down in sheets, the trees bowed before the 
force of the wind, while the incessant flashes of 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 113 

lightning showed objects almost as clearly as at 
noonday. Every few moments an unusually 
blinding glare, followed by a splitting crash, told 
the boys that some tree bad been splintered in 
the combat of nature’s forces. 

‘ ^ Gee, but this is a peach ! ’ ’ Tod exclaimed in 
awe-struck tones, gazing out of the little window, 
over the storm-lasbed river. 

Beam contemplated the raging waters, as if 
fascinated. 

‘‘I’d just as soon somebody else besides me 
would be out there in a skiff at present. ’ ’ 

“Yes, excuse me,” muttered Tod with a half 
shiver. 

Suddenly Beam raised bis band. 

“Listen!” 

Both listened intently for a few moments, but 
only the roar of the storm came to their ears. 

‘ ‘ What was it ?’ ’ Tod inquired. 

“I was sure I beard the whinny of a horse.” 

They listened again, and then Tod said : 

“You must have been mistaken. There are no 
horses on the island, anyhow. ’ ’ 

“Not unless they swam across from the main 
shore.” Beam was stilldistening intently. 

Suddenly, above the roar of the storm, came 
something that sounded like a human cry. The 
boys stared at each other in amazement, and Tod 
cried with bulging eyes : 

‘ ‘ Y^hat was that f ’ ’ 

Beam shook his head. 


114 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Then they both heard it again. It seemed un- 
mistakably a human voice. 

Beam straightened up and said with com- 
pressed lips : 

‘ ‘ Somebody ’s in trouble and it ’s our duty to go 
to them. ’ ’ 

“Awful nasty night to be out. The lightning 
is so bright, iUs a wonder they don’t see the 
cabin and come to it. ’ ’ 

“Probably they’re hurt and can’t,” Beam re- 
plied energetically, buttoning up his coat. “We 
won’t let anyone perish without trying to help 
him at least. Come on and shut the door after 
you,” and he sprang out into the storm, followed 
by Tod. 

The constant play of lightning rendered 
everything fairly distinct, but after a hasty sur- 
vey around they could see nothing unusual. 

“Which way did it sound?” 

“Down this way somewhere. Hello!” called 
Beam. They both listened for a reply, but heard 
no sound save the dashing rain and the roar of 
the wind through the trees. Again and again 
they shouted, but received no answer. 

“You go that way and I’ll go this, and we’ll 
make the circuit of the camp. Get a move on 
you, or we’ll be soaked through!” called Beam, 
dashing away. 

Here and there, up and down, calling and 
shouting, the boys hurried, peering under trees 
and bushes, now waiting an instant for an un- 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 115 


usually bright flash to lighten some dark spot, 
then scurrying on again, only to find their search 
was vain. Nor was the cry repeated. 

When they met on the opposite side of camp 
ten minutes later, both were drenched to the 
skin. 

‘‘This is a wild goose chase,’’ said Tod, as 
they came together; “that cry must have come 
from the ghost of some of those old river pirates. 
I haven’t seen a thing.” 

“It beats the deuce,” Beam replied in a disap- 
pointed way, “however, I feel better for having 
looked, anyhow. I suppose we may as well go 
in, although we can’t get any wetter.” 

“You’ll feel a whole lot worse, physically, to- 
morrow, if you don’t get those wet clothes off 
mighty soon. ’ ’ The nurse had suddenly remem- 
bered his duties and led the way swiftly to the 
cabin. 

Arriving there, he made Beam take off every 
stitch of his wet clothing, then massaged him 
thoroughly and put him between the blankets. 

“There, you’ll be in great luck if you don’t 
have a setback, after this piece of foolishness, 
young fellow,” he commented, after getting his 
patient in bed. 

“I don’t care. I’d do the same thing over 
again,” retorted Beam. 

“If Doc Hall hears of this, he’ll think I’m a 
peach of a nurse,” snorted Tod, getting out of his 
own wet garments. 


116 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I guess 1^11 be all right/ ^ murmured Beam 
drowsily, “get to bed and put out that light. 

The worst of the storm had now passed over, 
although the rain was still falling steadily. The 
“rubbing down^^ Tod had given Beam acted as 
a sleeping powder and he was soon in the land of 
dreams. Tod never did have any trouble with 
his “sleep works, and after his recent bit of ex- 
ercise, slept unusually soundly. 

The storm had cleared away and everything 
was bright and beautiful when the sun rose in 
the morning. Beam awoke first and was rum- 
maging for dry underclothes, when Tod opened 
his eyes. 

“How do you feelU^ the latter inquired, the 
events of the preceding evening hashing upon his 
mind. 

“Oh, fairly well,’^ was the reply, followed by a 
hollow cough. 

“That doesn’t sound like it. You probably 
caught cold after that wetting. Just keep quiet 
to-day and let me do the hustling. ’ ’ 
i “All right; I’ll be good,” returned Beam list- 
lessly as he began dressing; “there isn’t any- 
thing to do but run the lines.” 

“I’ll ’tend to that. First I’ll get you a cup of 
hot coffee and some toast.” 

“And I’ll go see if the tent leaked.” 

Beam found the tent in better shape than he 
had hoped, as there were only two or three spots 
where the rain had driven through slightly. Of 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 117 


course, the protection afforded by the trees had 
eased the force of the storm. 

Leaving it open to air out, he wandered about 
the ground they had been over in the night, go- 
ing still farther from camp. But he found no 
trace of anything that would solve the mystery 
of the cries. 

His lung felt sore and his cough began to 
bother him again. 

Going back to the cabin he tumbled on the 
blankets which Tod had not yet picked up, with 
the remark: 

“I feel like I was about ninety-six years old. 
Guess I must have caught a little cold. ’ ^ 

Tod looked up from his culinary work in alarm 
at this confession of weakness. 

‘ ‘ Of course you did. And just as we had you 
on the mend! It^s too provoking. I had no 
business to let you go out in that rain last night. 
This fish will be done in a minute, then you can 
have a bite to eat.’’ 

‘‘I don’t care for anything but a cup of cotfee 
and a bit of toast. I’ll be perfectly all right if 
I can keep from coughing much.” 

‘‘I know, but that ^if’ is where the trouble 
comes in. If your lung gets sore again, you’re 
going to cough. But here’s your toast and cof- 
fee. Maybe that will warm up your insides.” 

‘M’ll keep from coughing as much as I can. 
Perhaps if I keep quiet and stay in the sun, I can 
ward olf this attack. The air is like wine after 


118 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


this storm. Beam rose slowly and sat down at 
the table. 

‘ ‘After I run the lines, I’m going to investigate 
this old island and see if I can find any clue to 
that business last night,” said Tod, spearing a 
fish. 

“You don’t suppose that man Johnson’s visit 
here and sudden departure could have had any- 
thing to do with it ? ” questioned Beam. 

“Never thought of it. He might have brought 
on the thunder-storm,” replied Tod with becom- 
ing gravity. 

“See what you can find out about him next 
time you go uptown, anyhow. ’ ’ 

After breakfast Tod ran the lines and then 
made the circuit of the island shore, looking 
closely along the sandy beach for indications of 
anybody or anything landing. But none were 
found. However, as Beam said, the rain would 
have obliterated all tracks, if any were made. 
The light he had seen at the upper end of the 
island furnished him food for thought, but as 
yet he had said nothing about it to Tod. He 
coughed blood at intervals all that day. The 
next day he was worse and Tod insisted upon 
rowing up to the town and interviewing Dr. Hall. 

He brought back some medicine and instruc- 
tions from the doctor as to Beam’s treatment. 

“You are to live out in the sun and air, and 
exercise a little every day. As you get stron- 
ger, you are to increase the exercise, but be care- 


A VISITOR AND A THUNDER-STORM 119 


ful and don^t overdo. I promised to watch you, 
for I want you to get in shape for duck shooting 
later on. .Torn promised that he and Jim would 
be down when the northern flight comes. 

“What did you find out about Johnson U’ 

“Why, your father said he got a telegram that 
night to come to Chicago on the first train. They 
brought the message down to him and he went 
back with the messenger and went in next morn- 
ing. He left word with your father that he 
would be back here and explain as soon as possi- 
ble. Something queer about it, seems to me, but 
your father says he’s all right.” 

“Did you say anything about our wild goose 
chase the other night!” 

“No, I just told Doc you got wet and let it 
go at that. I said little about it to your father 
and mother, for I didn’t want to worry them.” 

“That was right. Thank you,” returned 
Beam gratefully. 

“The more I think of it,” Tod continued, “the 
more I think that voice we thought we heard 
was imaginary. Surely, we would find some- 
thing to show for it.” 

“It seems so,” said Beam quietly, and so the 
boys dismissed the matter from their minds. 

Beam began to follow Dr. Hall’s instructions 
to the letter, but it was more than a week before 
the soreness began to leave his lung again. 
Even then the up-building process was slow at 
first. But the sunshine and fresh air proved a 


120 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


powerful tonic and gradually lie grew stronger. 

He increased the mileage of his walks every 
day, until he was tired enough to sleep soundly. 
When the cough left him he began to gain more 
rapidly and presently began his rowing and 
paddling stunts again, short at first, but increas- 
^ing the distance every day. Slowly but surely 
he gained in health, strength and appetite, so 
by the time October was at hand he felt better 
and stronger than he had since his injury at 
the bridge. His eyes began to take on their old- 
time sparkle and he moved about with more vim 
and agility. 

‘‘I’ve got you coming my way now and I pro- 
pose to keep you that way,” said Tod to him one 
day the first week in October. ‘ ‘ I don ’t want you 
to get mixed up with any fall rains, either. ’ ’ 

“All right. I’ll be good,” replied Beam gayly. 

“Don’t think you’re an athlete yet a while,” 
warned Tod. 

He had made several trips uptown to report 
Beam’s progress, and on one of them brought 
Nibs back to be ready for duck shooting. The 
old setter was supremely happy to be once more 
with his young master and roamed the island at 
his own sweet will. 


CHAPTEE IX 


A DAY .WITH THE DUCKS 

^ ^ Tr\ Y the way,’^ Tod remarked one even- 
ing as they sat on the old log by the 
m M bank of the river — their favorite seat 
— ‘‘a big rise in the river is reported. It has 
been raining up North and the river is rising fast 
at St. Paul.’’ 

‘‘That’s good. The more water the more 
ducks, generally.” 

“I must put out a mark. It ought to begin 
to rise here pretty soon. Guess I’ll do it now, 
then I won’t forget it,” remarked Tod, looking 
along the bank. 

“I see just the thing. Come here. Nibs,” 
Beam called to the old setter who was pottering 
around, and came bounding up with an expectant 
look in his eyes. Beam tossed a bit of dirt over 
toward a piece of lath lying a few rods away. 
“Go bring me that strip of lath.” 

Nibs took one look and in half a dozen bounds 
had it in his mouth. His master took the stick, 
handed it to Tod and patted the old dog on the 
head. 

“Good boy; now run and play again,” and 
Nibs darted away. 


121 


122 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAIVIP 


Tod set his mark and returned to his log- 
warming. 

“A few frosty nights now, and the mallards 
ought to begin to show up.’’ 

^‘Yes, I’m glad you thought to bring old Nibs 
down. If we get much shooting over on the 
bottoms we’ll need him. No use for him over 
decoys on the river.” 

‘^That’s why I brought him. I thought we 
might get some mallard shooting out on the 
ponds before the river ducks came down.” 

The following morning Tod found by his mark 
that the river had risen two inches. From then 
on it rose steadily until it had swelled three feet 
or more. By that time October was well along 
and frosty nights began to appear. 

‘^Suppose we try the bottoms to-day,” sug- 
gested Tod one clear, sharp morning, when the 
frost sparkled in the sun like diamonds. 

‘‘Barkis is willin’,” was Beam’s reply, as he 
danced a hornpipe in the invigorating air. 

“You need the wire edge taken oft of you, 
anyhow. You are getting too frisky,” said Tod, 
eyeing his patient with great satisfaction. 

“I guess so. I feel as if I could jump over 
the tent.” 

‘ ‘ I want to see that chest fill out a little more ; ’ ’ 
Tod spoke critically in his capacity as nurse. 

“Oh, that will come after a while. I’ll stulf 
it with snow and mink skins,” retorted Beam 
with a laugh. “And by the way,” he continued. 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


123 


‘Hliis rise ought to let us through that dry cut- 
off. If it does, we can row within forty rods of 
that slough where I killed the teal.’’ 

didn’t think of that. We’ll try it.” 

‘^Eowing is easier than walking, you know. 
Especially, where we have two or three dozen 
mallards, and you do most of the rowing.” 

Tod felt so happy to see his old friend getting 
back into form that he laughed and retorted : 

Never mind; I’ll get even with you after I 
get you patched up.” 

^‘It was after ten before the boys started, but 
they were in no hurry. They were going to 
feeding and roosting grounds, and knew from 
experience that their best shooting would be in 
the evening. 

^‘Better take a sandwich; we may be home 
late,” Tod suggested as they were about ready. 

^‘Good idea; you can’t shoot if you’re hun- 
gry,” laughed Beam as he donned his hip boots. 

Five minutes later they were out on the river, 
with Nibs shivering expectantly in the bottom 
of the boat. 

‘^Strike for the cut-off and keep hoping it’s 
under water,” said Beam, slipping shells into 
his gun to be ready for any emergency. 

Half-way across the river, he said in a low 
tone: 

‘ ‘ Stop rowing and sit perfectly still. ’ ’ 

Tod, like Beam, was a seasoned duck hunter, 
and instead of twisting his head around to see 


124 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


what was coming, became a frozen statue in a 
second. 

Nibs crouched in the bottom, impatient to 
be hunting somewhere. 

Tod watched Beam, and the latter watched 
a dozen ducks come sweeping down the river well 
above the water. 

They passed at thirty yards. 

‘‘Now drop,’’ and Tod went on his stomach 
on the seat ahead. 

Beam threw the gun to position on the depart- 
ing wild fowl, and two reports echoed over the 
river. 

“Any fatalities!” queried Tod, scrambling 
back and grasping the oars. 

‘ ‘ Three in the water. Hurry up ! I think one 
isn’t dead.” 

Tod sent the boat swiftly down the stream; 
another report roared out and a charge of shot 
swept over the water, ending the troubles of a 
redhead. 

“All dead now,” said Beam with a satisfied 
glance. 

A few sweeps of the oars and the three big 
ducks were picked up. 

‘ ‘ Good starter, ’ ’ Tod commented, as he turned 
the boat toward the cut-off. 

“She’s under water, all right,” Beam cried 
gleefully, and a few minutes later they swept 
through the narrow opening. 



“tod went on his stomach on the seat ahead” — Page 12 i 









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A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 125 

‘‘Land her opposite that slongh where I 
stood.’’ 

Tod nodded, and soon they were on the bot- 
toms, with Nibs cavorting around like a dancing 
bear. 

“We must keep our eyes out the first hour 
or two and see where they drop in most,” said 
Beam, as they started for the shooting grounds. 

In five minutes they were on the pass where 
he had killed his teal. 

“Might as well stand here a little while.” 
Beam dropped the butt of his gun on the ground 
and surveyed the numerous little lakes and ponds 
that dotted the open meadow for two or three 
miles parallel to the river. 

“Nobody been after them this morning, I 
guess,” Tod observed, as he scanned the heavens. 

“No, they are bedded somewhere, feeding or 
dozing. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ They may have gone somewhere for the day. 
We won’t get much shooting until toward even- 
ing, anyhow.” 

“That may be it. Just keep your eyes open 
and if you see any, notice where they head for. 
We can put in our time walking up and down 
the sloughs. We may kick out a few along the 
edge. ’ ’ 

“You better not do too much walking,” ad- 
monished Tod, “my legs are made of boiler iron 
and I’d better do the pedestrian act. I’ll take 


126 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


a ramble around some of the sloughs and you 
do the observation part.’’ 

Thanks, awfully. But don’t forget your 
lunch.” 

‘‘I’ve got it,” said Tod with a grin, as he de- 
parted. 

It was clear and bright, in fact too fine for 
good duck shooting, except in the evening. Beam 
watched Tod go across to the first slough and 
circle half-way around it. Then he heard the 
report of his gun and saw ducks getting up in 
all directions. 

“Looks as if we might have something to do. 
Nibs, old boy.” 

The dog wagged his tail knowingly, as if to say 
he understood. 

Beam stepped down into the rushes of the dry 
swale. Presently four mallards headed that 
way. As they came over. Beam raised the gun 
and the ducks stopped and began to climb. Two 
quick reports rang out and a pair of big birds 
came crashing down near him. 

“Go get them. Nibs.” 

The old dog needed no second invitation and 
they were soon at his master’s feet. 

More followed, and Beam was kept busy for 
half an hour or more, crouching in the rushes, 
shooting, and watching the direction of the flight. 

He soon saw that the spot where he stood was 
a favorite fly-way, between two feeding lakes, 
and he resolved to remain there for the evening 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 127 

shooting, unless Tod in his rambles found a 
better point. 

Beam had six mallards when the flight eased 
off and the ducks departed for some less harassed 
point. Except for the occasional sound of a gun, 
he had lost track of Tod. Becoming tired of 
inaction, he took a walk down and around the 
slough. 

Mud-hens were numerous, swimming among 
the scattered rushes in their odd, jerky way. No 
ducks were routed out until he was half-way 
back. Then without warning, a pair of mallards 
sprang out of the tall rushes. It was like shoot- 
ing at a mark. The gun came to a level and 
each barrel spoke the death of a ‘^greenhead.’’ 
Nibs joyfully retrieved them, and fifteen minutes 
later Beam was back at his stand. 

It was afternoon when he caught sight of Tod 
coming from far up the bottoms. He was walk- 
ing slowly, but in due time reached the stand. 

^‘Well, Doctor, youVe had quite a tramp. 

‘‘DonT mention it,’’ said Tod, and threw him- 
self wearily down in the grass. 

‘‘This coat weighs a hundred and ninety-six 
pounds.” 

“Must have something in it.” 

“Seven mallards and five jacks,” replied Tod, 
pulling the birds out of his game pocket and 
throwing them on the ground. 

“Quite a load. There are eight more to go 
with them.” Beam pointed to his pile. 


128 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


saw you down two or three. Say, but I’m 
hungry.” 

‘‘Didn’t you eat your lunch U’ 

“No, thought I’d wait till I got back.” 

“Wanted to be sociable, eh? All right. Let’s 
refresh ourselves right now.” 

For ten minutes two sets of jaws worked 
pretty continuously. Then Beam eased up and 
said: 

“Where did you decide was the best place 
for this evening?” 

“Near as I can tell there isn’t any best place. 
All of these ponds and sloughs are feeding 
grounds, and they are as liable to go to one as 
another. But this is the best fly-way, sure.” 

“That’s the way I figured. And as this is 
handy to the boat, I propose to stand along here 
somewhere,” said Beam, tipping up the water- 
bottle and washing down his lunch. 

“That’s a wise idea, I think. Hold on, don’t 
put away that bottle — and I’ll go up and stand 
at the foot of this slough above. It’s on the 
same fly-way, and there’s a bit of high ground 
at the end of the swale where the grass has been 
cut, to drop my ducks on. Say, but that water 
tastes good, if it is rather warm,” said Tod, 
heaving a sigh of content. 

“I rather look for a good many ducks this 
evening,” pursued his companion, “from the 
number that were feeding here this morning.” 

“I do, too. I’d like to get about four dozen. 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 129 

then I’d go uptown with them the first thing in 
the morning and — ” 

‘‘Who is this coming?” Beam interrupted. 

“A conple of farmer boys in blue overalls 
with an old musket, ’ ’ Tod hazarded, after watch- 
ing the approaching hunters for a moment. 

“Hello, boys! Out hunting?” queried Beam, 
as two boys, one about twelve and the other four- 
teen, came up. 

“Yes, sir. But we ain’t killed nothin’ yet. 
We ain’t seen nothin’ settin’ but mud-hens, an’ 
we can’t shoot flyin’,” replied the elder, drop- 
ping the butt of his old musket on the ground, 
where it towered above his head like a flagstalf. 

“Why don’t you shoot mud-hens?” Tod asked 
gravely. 

“Humph! We wouldn’t shoot them things, 
would we, Lige?” 

“Naw. They’ve got bills jus’ like chickens. 
They ain’t ducks,” replied the smaller boy 
loftily. 

“So you can’t shoot flying, yet?” Beam asked 
them good naturedly. 

“No. Nothin’ but blackbirds out of the corn. 
I killed four once, out of a big flock ; at one shot, 
too. But the ducks fly so fast I can’t git aim 
on ’em.” 

“Maybe your gun isn’t long enough,” said 
.Tod, with mock concern. 

“Yes, ’tis; that ain’t it. I jus’ can’t git aim 
on ’em. I’ll learn when I git bigger,” returned 


130 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


tlie boy confidently, entirely unconscious of any 
attempt at fun on Tod^s part. 

‘‘Oh, Johnny, see this pile of ducks!” called 
“Lige,” pointing to the mallards. 

“Did youse kill all them?” queried Johnny 
in amazement. 

“Yes, we sure did.” 

“Find that many, settin’?” 

“No, we shot them on the wing.” 

The two lads gazed upon the pile of ducks in 
open-mouthed wonder. Suddenly the small boy 
cried out : 

“There’s one you didn’t shoot on the wing. 
You hit him right in the head,” and he pointed 
to a big drake with a blood spot on the glossy 
green. 

Tod simply had to laugh at this bit of shrewd 
reasoning, but Beam only smiled and said : 

“I don’t mean that we hit them all in the 
wing, but that we shot them on the wing; that 
is, when they were flying.” 

“0-o-oh, I see,” was chorused from both 
boys. 

“Would you like a duck to take home ? ” 

“Yes sir-ee,” and the mouths of both watered 
and their eyes danced. 

Beam picked out a big greenhead and handed 
it to the larger boy. 

“Tell your mother a strange hunter gave her 
tliat for a present. Tell her to stuff it and bake 
it and give you a feast.” 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


131 


^^You bet I will. Thanks I Come on, Lige,^^ 
he cried, and grasping the mallard firmly, he 
started off at a pace that caused his small part- 
ner to break into a trot to keep near him. The 
last the boys saw of them, they were still going, 
the big one heading the procession for home. { 

‘‘Well, if that isnT a queer hunting outfit,^’ 
laughed Tod, watching the blue overalls disap- 
pear. 

“Poor little chaps! That duck will do them 
more good than a hundred would us. They 
probably don’t have meat once a month except 
salt pork. ” As he spoke. Beam looked pityingly 
at the departing “hunters.” 

“No, and they’ll talk about this adventure for 
a year. Did you notice how fearfully and won- 
derfully made that old firearm was!” 

“Yes, it’s probably^ been in the family for 
generations. I should say the hammer would 
weigh two pounds.” 

“And the barrel was almost as long as a fish 
pole. Imagine a man trying to make a snap 
shot on woodcock with that gun,” and Tod 
gave a derisive snort. 

“That makes me think; where did you find 
your jacksnipe! There don’t seem to be any 
around this slough.” 

“Oh, I ran across two or three muddy swales 
up here, where there were quite a number. I 
didn’t try to shoot many. I was looking for 
ducks. ’ ’ 


132 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I wish that sun would hurry up,” said Beam, 
glancing impatiently at the slowly declining orb 
of day. 

How many duck-hunters have voiced that same 
wish! 

Occasionally the boys saw a flock in the air, 
but not many. It was not the sort of day to 
make ducks restless. 

‘‘The weather’s too fine,” Beam remarked 
after watching two or three flocks of mallards 
circle lazily once or twice and then drop into a 
distant slough. “If it were cloudy and drizzly, 
they would be circling constantly. ’ ’ 

“It wouldn’t be as healthy a day for you to be 
out, either. ’ ’ 

“No, I suppose not, but I could wear my oil- 
skin suit. ’ ’ 

“They’re beginning to drop in a little more. 
Guess I’ll go up to my stand,” and Tod rose as 
he spoke and stretched himself. 

“Bring your ducks back here when you get 
through shooting.” 

Tod nodded and was off. 

Beam watched until he judged Tod had reached 
the stand, to see if he routed any ducks on the 
way. Then he turned, just as four pintails 
dashed past up the swale. 

The butt of his gun was on the ground, the 
safety not even slipped. 

There were some lightning-like movements, a 
quick swinging of arms and gun, two sharp re- 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


133 


ports, — and the four pintails kept on np the 
swale. 

Beam felt cheap, and of course must scold the 
dog. 

“Nibs, arenT you ashamed of yourself I Why 
didn’t you tell me they were coming?” 

Nibs whined, thumped the ground with his tail, 
and gazed wistfully after the departing ducks. 
He didn’t quite understand the reproof. 

Presently Beam saw the ducks scatter and 
spring into the air. Then one of them dropped 
to the ground, and he knew Tod had scored. 

A sudden whistle of wings, and he looked up 
to see a single mallard climbing for the clouds. 
A second later it was down in the rushes of the 
swale and Nibs had it in his mouth. 

“They can’t sneak past every time when a 
fellow’s back is turned, can they. Nibs?” 

With shining eyes Nibs dropped the duck on 
the pile. 

The sun dropped lower and lower and more 
ducks drifted into the bottoms. From one to 
half a dozen flocks could be seen in the air con- 
stantly. Tod’s gun had spoken several times 
and two or three shots came down the fly-way. 
The sun was just above the horizon when the 
flight began in earnest. Ducks, mostly mallards, 
were circling over every lake and pond; up and 
down the fly-way, and crossing from one slough 
to another, looking for a suitable feeding ground. 

Beam stepped down into the edge of the rushes 


134 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


for a better blind, and soon be bad Nibs busy 
and bappy retrieving bis birds. 

,Tbe snn sank ont of sight. 

A dozen mallards circled over tbe lower slongb 
and came up tbe swale. Beam picked two with 
tbe first barrel and one with tbe second, and they 
whirled down into tbe rushes where Nibs was 
waiting for them. 

Tbe fun was fast and furious. Tod was evi- 
dently right in tbe thick of it, from tbe way bis 
gun talked. Several times in glancing up that 
way, Beam saw a black ball drop from tbe sky 
and knew Tod was giving an account of himself. 

According to tradition, it would here be proper 
to state that Beam^s gun became hot from rapid 
firing, and that be was compelled to thrust tbe 
muzzle in tbe water to cool it, but in hundreds 
of duck shoots, tbe writer has never known a 
case where a shotgun became so overheated from 
rapid firing that it could not be bandied with 
perfect comfort on a cool' fall day. It has oc- 
curred on a blistering hot summer day, but never 
when tbe weather was reasonably cool. 

A lone mallard now came down tbe swale. 
Beam reached for it, but through an error of 
judgment tbe first charge failed to score, necessi- 
tating the second barrel. As it crashed into the 
rushes, five redheads flew by and it seemed to 
Beam, in his disgust, that the big birds actually 
winked at him. But the gun was useless, and 


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A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 135 

they were out of reach before the empty shells 
were ejected. 

That was part of the fun, however, and Beam, 
being used to it, took the matter philosophically. 
They would ‘^keep’^ until another time. 

The glow of evening grew fainter and he could 
see the flash when Tod ^s gun spoke. The whistle 
of wings and the quacking of mallards were 
heard on every hand. Every few moments they 
could be heard dropping in the water in the 
slough below. 

The piping of a green-winged teal came to 
Beam’s ears, and a moment later a pair of the 
handsome little fellows dashed by at easy range. 

But he watched them calmly and smiled as he 
murmured : 

‘‘Too small potatoes to-day, my little friends.” 

Then he heard a sound that sent a thrill 
through him. It was the honk of a goose ! He 
peered sharply out into the gathering dusk. 

Hark! There it was again, and nearer. He 
crouched in the rushes for what seemed an age. 
Suddenly he heard a honk almost at his elbow ' 
and a big dark form loomed up overhead. 

“All alone, eh?” he muttered as the gun came 
up. A single flash, a report, — and the big fellow 
folded his wings and came whop down in the 
rushes. 

“Sounded like a smoke-house falling. A little 
too heavy for you. Nibs. I’ll get him.” 


136 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


But Nibs was there first, trying his best to drag 
the big gander in. 

‘‘An old Canada. That’s good,” murmured 
Beam, toting in the big goose with great satis- 
faction. 

It was quite dusk when he heard the whistle 
of wings right over him, and looking up, saw a 
pair of mallards standing in the air. He covered 
them both in a trice, and two flashes of fire 
leaped up. It was so dark he was blinded by 
the flash and could not see whether he scored 
or not. Instinctively he shrunk in his clothes 
and waited. A thump in the rushes not two 
feet from him followed, then another thump ten 
feet away. 

He reached down and picked up the nearest 
duck, muttering: 

“Pretty close call I I don’t want to get hit 
with one of those fellows if I can help it. ’ ’ 

Nibs came in with the other, and Beam stopped 
trying to shoot, busying himself with tying the 
ducks together, while he waited for Tod. 

This done, he walked across the swale and 
came back with a pole he had noticed while it was 
daylight. Then he sat and waited, watching the 
big moon slowly rise in the east. 

Presently he heard the sound of footsteps, and 
ere long Tod came staggering in with his load 
of ducks. 

“I didn’t know but you were going to shoot 
all night.” 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


137 


quit before you did, for I heard you shoot 
while I was coming down,’’ Tod retorted, drop- 
ping a pile of ducks and himself on the ground. 

‘^Oh, that was only the funeral of a lone 
Canada. ’ ’ 

‘^Did you get that fellow! I heard him.” 

^‘Sure. There he is on the pile.” 

^^How many ducks!” 

^‘Twenty this evening, I think.” 

^‘And I’ve got eighteen; all mallards but two. 
How shall we carry them to the boat!” 

^‘That’s easy. Tie them in bunches, string 
them on a pole, and put the pole on our shoulders. 
Mine are tied now. I’ve got a pole here.” 

^ ^ Good boy. Let ’s get back to camp ; I’m hun- 
gry.” 

‘‘That’s queer,” laughed Beam as they quickly 
tied Tod’s game. 

‘ ‘ There ; can you go forty rods under one end 
of that ! ” he added, lifting one end of the string. 

“I can go as far as you can, for marbles or 
chalk.” 

“All right, then. Come on.” 

Fortunately, the distance to the boat was not 
far, and the big round moon helped them on their 
way. The boat was reached without accident 
and Tod was soon pulling for camp. When they 
reached home, the ducks were hung high in the 
trees to keep them from hungry small animals, 
and the boys set about preparing a hasty sup- 
per. 


138 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


could eat fried boots/’ declared Tod bun- 

grily. 

‘‘What do you want to eat fried boots for?” 
don’t. But I could if I bad to. I’m hol- 
low clear to my knees. ’ ’ 

‘‘Ob, you are always bollow. We better just 
make a cup of coffee and get a pick-up supper, 
hadn’t we?” 

“I can clean and skin a blue cat in three min- 
utes,” said Tod with significant eagerness. 

Beam looked at bis hungry partner a moment 
and broke into an amused laugh. 

“Well, go ahead. I’ll build a fire and make 
the coffee,” and Tod was out of the door and 
down to the live-box before the words were fairly 
out of Beam’s mouth. 

Ten minutes later the appetizing odor of fry- 
ing fish made Beam feel glad that his partner 
was so hungry. The latter fried the fish and 
Beam made the coffee, both squatting on a soap 
box at intervals, discussing the shoot. 

“I had the most provoking experience,” and 
Tod stopped turning fish and looked around 
with his fork poised in the air. “I had just 
emptied both barrels at a bunch of mallards, 
when five redheads came sliding along as soft 
and easy as you please. I did some tall work 
trying to get loaded, but before I got coupled up 
they were a hundred yards away. ’ ’ 

Beam looked interested and said : 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


139 


‘‘That was a queer coincidence. Evidently 
those redheads werenT intended to be killed this 
evening. ’ ’ 

“How is thatr’ 

“Because I had identically the same experi- 
ence with the same ducks. Had just shot both 
barrels at a mallard, when those five redheads 
sailed past. Of course I couldn’t load in time, 
but I chuckled to think how you would have a 
beautiful shot and get two or three of them, 
maybe. ’ ’ 

“Evidently it wasn’t their time to die. But 
pour the coffee; the fish is ready. Let’s get 
to business.” 

“Don’t kill yourself now,” warned Beam, as 
iTod started up his grinding mill. 

“Shucks, there isn’t enough here to hurt me 
if I cleaned up everything in sight,” said Tod, 
heaping his plate, reckless of consequences. 

“I guess there isn’t much danger over-eating, 
but I won’t try to keep up with you. I’ll be on 
an ‘also ran’,” laughed Beam as he fell to. 

‘ ‘ This is positively the best fish I ever tasted, 
barring none,” was Tod’s heartfelt comment as 
he finished a slice and reached for more. 

Beam smiled. He was used to such remarks. 

After the meal was over and the dishes washed 
and put away, they loafed for half an hour under 
the trees. 

Presently Tod said with a yawn : 


140 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


don’t know whether it’s healthy to go to 
bed on that big supper or not, but I’m awful 
sleepy. Guess I’ll chance it.” 

^^I don’t believe it will hurt us. I’m sleepy, 
too. Shooting ducks is strenuous work,” Beam 
replied, following Tod into the tent and prepar- 
ing for bed. 

It didn’t take Tod long to get drowsy after 
he had once turned in. 

He was just drifting away into the land of 
dreams when he heard the hoot of an owl. Both 
boys were familiar with the hoot of every owl in 
the country, and Tod came ‘^back to shore” in- 
stantly, and listened. 

Pretty soon he heard it again. 

‘‘Do you hear that. Beam?” he called softly. 

“I do,” returned Beam quietly. “It’s a tol- 
erably fair imitation, but no owl ever made it.’^ 

“Not by a jugful! Can’t fool this pair on 
owls. What do you suppose is up?” and Tod 
listened more intently. 

“It’s too deep for me.” 

For twenty minutes the boys remained as quiet 
as a couple of cats, but no more owl hoots were 
heard. 

Then Tod said disgustedly: 

“Shucks! What’s the use of bothering our 
heads over it? I’m going to sleep. It’s prob- 
ably some boys trying to see how near they can 
come to imitating an owl,” and he turned over 
in the blankets and closed his eyes. In ten min- 


A DAY WITH THE DUCKS 


141 


utes he was asleep, but Beam remained awake 
for an hour listening and thinking. Of course 
the lights he had seen at the upper end of the 
island were foremost in his thoughts. Was the 
hooting connected with them! He wished he 
knew and felt half inclined to take the canoe and 
investigate, but the moon was shining and he 
was very tired, so he accepted Tod’s explanation 
and drifted off to sleep. 


CHAPTEE X 


BEAM GETS A LITTLE FKEE ADVICE 

HE boys slept later than usual. When 



Beam finally opened his eyes and looked 


at his watch, he gave his companion a 


vigorous shake, and fairly jumped out of bed. 

^ ^ Tod Masters, it ^s nearly seven o ’clock. Leap 
forth and do battle with the breakfast!” 

“Is it as late as that!” Tod grunted, sitting up 
and rubbing his eyes. 

“It surely is. Get a move on you,” said 
Beam, who was half dressed before Tod had 
fairly started. “Those imitation owl hoots 
didn’t seem to interfere much with your sleeping 
apparatus. ’ ’ 

“Oh, drat those owl hoots! Forget them. 
Between an old lantern that Dutch John saw, 
and a boy trying to imitate an owl, we might 
figure out a fairy story, but I’m not built that 
way.” Tod yawned indifferently. 

“All right, we’ll forget it and I’ll go out and 
see if the ducks are in statu quo.” 

“WTiat’s that!” queried Tod, sleepily. 

“It’s dago, for ‘all right,’ ” said Beam, diving 
out of the tent. 


142 


BEAM GETS A LITTLE ADVICE 143 


^ ^They’re in good shape, he announced, com- 
ing in a few minutes later. 

‘‘I suppose my first job is to go uptown and 
ship them.’’ 

‘‘I expect so. >We ought to get two and a half 
dollars for a dozen mallards. ’ ’ 

‘‘I hope so. We want to make enough on 
ducks to pay our expenses,” said Tod, putting 
the cotfee on to boil. 

‘‘You get away right after breakfast, and I’ll 
do up the work,” said Beam cheerfully. 

“Did they shrink any in the night, or didn’t 
you count ’em?” 

“They’re all there. We’ll send up four dozen 
and a half, and the goose. Ship the ducks and 
give the goose to mother. Tell her Beam sent 
it, and that he’s feeling finer than a fiddle.” 

After breakfast the game was piled in the boat 
and Tod pulled out, leaving Beam to run the 
camp. The latter washed the dishes and cleaned 
both guns, whistling away at his work — for 
Beam was actually beginning to whistle these 
days — then he went out and took his favorite 
seat upon the old log by the landing. 

It was another fine October day. In fact they 
had been blessed with fine weather for over a 
week ; still, clear and serene, with few clouds and 
no wind. i 

Beam knew from experience that these long 
calm periods late in the fall generally ended 
with a wild storm. But that did not disturb 


144 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


him in the least ; in fact, he rather yearned for it, 
for it meant myriads of dncks and fine shooting 
over decoys. 

It was almost eleven o’clock. He had been 
out with the little target rifle for half an hour 
trying to get a shot at a lurking crow, and fail- 
ing, he came back and took his seat on the old log 
again. 

Presently he saw a skiff coming down along 
the shore. 

‘^Tod made a quick trip. No, that isn’t Tod. 
Some hunter or fisherman. Seems to be sizing 
up the island in great shape,” he murmured. 

The occupant of the boat would row a few 
strokes and then drift while he peered through 
the trees. 

As he neared the landing he caught sight of 
Beam and came steadily on. Standing up in 
the boat and wiping his forehead, he called out : 

‘^Any objections to a man landing here and 
resting a few minutes U’ 

‘‘No, sir,” Beam returned quietly, without 
rising. 

The stranger pulled up his boat, and walking 
up the hank, took a seat upon the log. 

He was a small, rather odd-looking man, with 
a retreating forehead and iron-gray hair, which 
had once been black. A small livid scar showed 
plainly on the right cheek-bone. The eyes were 
small, dark and shifty; the kind that change 
direction as quick as lightning and seem to cen- 


BEAM GETS A LITTLE ADVICE 145 


ter to a needle-point. Altogether, he was not a 
person to attract one at first sight. He looked 
like a man with a history. 

‘‘Pleasant day,’^ Beam remarked civilly, for 
want of something better to say. 

“Yes, it’s a fine day. By the way, what’s the 
name of this island?” 

“Dnck Island.” 

“I thought so. Just camping here a few days, 
I suppose?” 

“Another fellow and I have been living here 
since August.” 

“Is that so? Haven’t been disturbed in any 
way?” and the stranger looked surprised. 

“No, sir. Why should we be?” said Beam, 
stealing a side glance at the man. 

The stranger hesitated, wiped his brow, and 
said with a queer laugh : 

“I can see you haven’t lived around here very 
long. ’ ’ 

Beam thought it best not to enlighten him, and 
remained silent. 

“This is the first time I have seen the island in 
years,” the man continued, “but it used to be 
my old stamping ground along the upper river 
here. When I was young there used to be the 
worst gang of horsethieves and cutthroats along 
here that ever infested a country. This island 
was their headquarters. I know of six murders 
that were committed here. The place is haunted, 
or used to be. There is no doubt of that. Why, 


146 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

they used to hear shrieks and groans here nearly 
every night. It was an awful place. You 
couldnT get a respectable person within half a 
mile of here after dark.^^ 

“DidnT the authorities look into the matter 
asked Beam curiously. 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes. They had detectives here at differ- 
ent times, and they nosed around, but never dis- 
covered anything. In fact, in my opinion, there 
wasnT much to discover. It was a clear case of 
spooks,^' and the stranger lowered his voice and 
looked around. ‘‘I wouldn’t stay here over 
night for a farm, and if you take my advice you’ll 
get off as soon as possible.” 

‘^But that old gang is all broken up,” said 
Beam, smiling indulgently, for he made up his 
mind that he was talking to one of those crack- 
brained believers in ghosts and spirits that one 
occasionally comes across — one of the sort that 
repeat wild, bloody tales so often that they end in 
really believing them. 

^‘How do you know it is? Don’t you think it. 
There are always some of them left. They had 
their secret meeting points, and places to hide 
stolen goods. There are goods hidden away to- 
day, I’ll warrant you, that have been hidden for 
forty years.” 

“Well, it doesn’t concern me,” returned Beam 
indifferently; “I’m here and propose to stay 
here until I get ready to leave. ’ ’ 

His calm, almost contemptuous attitude evi- 


BEAM GETS A LITTLE ADVICE 147 


dently irritated the strange teller of bloodthirsty 
tales, for he arose and said with stern emphasis : 

‘‘When yon get older, young man, and have 
seen more of the world and humanity, you will 
not take these terrible crimes so calmly. Some 
day you will wish you had heeded my warning. ’ ^ 
Then, without another word, he walked down 
the bank, stepped into his boat and went on his 
way down the river. 

Beam watched him grow smaller in the dis- 
tance, and murmured : 

“Now what kind of a freak is that? He must 
take this for a nursery or a kindergarten, ready 
to believe most anything. How Tod will laugh ! 
He will probably scold because I didn’t hold the 
chap until he came, so he could pump some more 
blood and thunder out of him. ’ ’ 

With these reflections, he dismissed the strange 
visitor from his mind and resumed his former 
“occupation” of resting. 

Presently another boat hove in view, whose 
one occupant he soon made out to be Tod. In 
a few minutes more Tod was at the landing. 

“Is lunch ready?” he called as he unshipped 
his oars. 

“Not quite. I don’t think we’d better wait 
for lunch, but load up the things and go home,” 
said Beam gravely. 

“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Tod, his 
eyes flying open, as he looked up at his partner 
in astonishment. 


148 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


had a fellow along here who says if we 
don’t get otf this island we’ll see spooks and be 
killed, and a lot of things.” 

‘‘Oh, is that alH” said Tod, climbing ont of 
the boat and walking up the bank. “I thought 
it might be something serious, from the way you 
spoke.” 

Beam chuckled. ‘ ‘ Isn ’t that serious enough ? ’ ^ 

“It was probably some relative of Dutch 
John’s. They can’t scare me. To hear some 
folks talk, a body would think this was a dump- 
ing ground for ghosts and hobgoblins. It’s a 
good enough place for me to live, ’ ’ said Tod, who 
was thoroughly practical. 

“If you can stand it, I can. Come and rest 
your feet while I get lunch. ’ ’ 

“We won’t leave until we get a bite to eat, 
anyhow. I’d give a fifteen-cent watermelon to 
know who started these yarns. ’ ’ 

“So would I. There can’t be anything iu 
them, or father would have said something about 
it.” 

Then Beam thought of his experience in the 
night at the upper end of the island, and fell to 
wondering again. 

“What sort of a looking chap was this blood 
and thunder story-teller that was entertaining 
you in my absence 1 ’ ’ asked Tod as he hunted for 
canned fruit and other dainties. 

“He was a small, dark, middle-aged man, with 
a scar on his right cheek. One of the kind of 


BEAM GETS A LITTLE ADVICE 149 


fellows you wouldnT trust very far on a short 
acquaintance. ^ ’ 

‘‘I met that fellow when I was going up, I’ll 
wager a penny.” Tod paused in his search and 
looked interested. 

‘ ‘I presume so. He was probably on the river 
then.” 

‘‘He was gaping at the bluffs when I passed 
him. Never looked around. Had a brown, 
double-bowed boat. ’ ’ 

“Yes, that was the fellow.” 

“And he knew all about this neck o’ woods, 
eh?” 

“He claimed to.” 

‘ ‘ He had. probably heard those yarns the old 
settlers tell, and as you looked pretty green, he 
thought he would scare you with them. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I guess so. When he saw I wasn ’t impressed 
very much, he became disgusted and went on 
down the river. ’ ’ 

“He’ll have a nice time scaring this pair of 
ducks,” laughed Tod, “and, by the way, Tom 
and Jim are watching the weather reports. The 
first sign of a cold storm, and they’ll both be 
down here.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s good. We ’ll try and make it interest- 
ing for them.” 


CHAPTER XI 


OVEE DECOYS ON THE EIVEE 

T he days drifted peacefully by; every 
frost deepening the gold and crimson of 
the autumn leaves until they were as 
gorgeously beautiful as that master painter, 
Nature, could make them. Beam and Tod 
hunted, fished, or rowed, as the mood seized them. 
Twice they made small shipments of ducks, killed 
over on the bottoms — mostly mallards — but, as 
the weather continued fine, the bluebills, ring- 
necks, and other river ducks still lingered in the 
north. 

October slipped away, and chilly November 
was at hand. The boys set the traps for musk- 
rat, mink and coon. Beam was careful to exer- 
cise every day; paddling the canoe, rowing the 
boat, or making the rounds of the traps. His 
lungs ceased to bother him in the least and he 
continued to gain flesh and strength. 

‘‘If we put in the winter here, I ought to be 
a new man by spring, ’ ’ he remarked to Tod one 
day as they occupied their favorite seat on the 
old log by the river bank. 

“Yes, your folks wonT know you by spring. 
Sorry now I didnT lick you when Doc told me 
150 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 151 


to/’ said Tod, surveying Ms patient with critical 
gravity. 

Never mind. Tom and Jim are due pretty 
soon ; maybe they’ll help.” 

‘‘Beats all, how this weather hangs on. Tom 
and Jim have been sitting on the safety-valve 
for two weeks. Last time I was uptown they 
threatened to do something to the weather man 
if he didn’t figure out a change before long.” 

Beam laughed. 

“After Tom Williams’s first shoot over de- 
coys, he never cared to hunt ducks any other 
way. Says he’s too lazy. The idea of ducks 
coming to him instead of having to tramp after 
the ducks, seemed to strike him all in a heap.” 

“Tom’s a good shot, too. He says his Greener 
is just aching to pull ducks from the clouds.” 

“Yes, Tom’s no slouch. Neither is Jim, for 
that matter, but I guess we can hold our own,” 
added Beam with a laugh. 

“I nicked my thumb skinning that last mink, 
and it doesn’t seem to get well very fast,” said 
Tod, contemplating a not overclean hand. 

“Why don’t you try soap and water f” sug- 
gested Beam gravely. 

‘ ‘Never you mind the soap and water. They ’re 
clean enough for duck-hunters and trappers. 
When we get back to civilization. I’ll clean up.” 

‘ ‘ By the way, how much fur have we ? ” 

“About seventy-five rats, eight mink, and five 


coon. 


152 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


that’s not so bad. .We’ll have quite a 
bunch by spring. ’ ’ 

‘‘Wish we could get a wildcat or two, for 
variety. They’re in the rocks, all right,” said 
Tod, looking over at the bluffs. 

“Yes, I wish we could get an otter or two, it 
would help pay the doctor’s bill; but I’m afraid 
we won’t.” 

“It doesn’t look now as if it ever would 
storm,” remarked Tod, changing the subject, 
and looking up at the soft, blue sky. 

“You can’t tell anything about it this time of 
year. It may freeze up without a storm. I’ve 
known it to, but we ’re more apt to get one. ’ ’ 

“Well, let her come. The quicker the better; 
and that reminds me: I must flesh those last 
three rat hides,” and Tod arose and went at his 
task. 

The boys retired about nine o’clock that even- 
ing. The last thing before turning in, they 
walked down to the river bank as usual to take 
a final look at the stars and the river, and say 
good night to the world. 

“Astonishing, how this weather holds on,” 
said Beam, inhaling deep draughts of fresh pure 
air. 

“It may keep this up for two weeks yet, but 
I’m going to bed just the same,” was Tod’s de- 
cision as he started for the tent, and Beam soon 
after followed. 

Shortly after eleven o’clock, the latter was 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 153 


aroused by a sbout from the bank. Hastily 
springing out of bed, he thrust his head out of 
the tent and called out : 

‘‘Who’s there?” 

“Tom and Jim. Fetch a lantern,” and a joy- 
ful bark of recognition from Nibs followed the 
words. 

“Just a minute,” cried Beam, popping back, 
and he was dressed with incredible speed. In a 
few very brief moments he came out with a lan- 
tern. 

“Duck Island hospital, ahoy!” Tom Williams 
called out, with a jolly laugh, as Beam appeared 
on the bank. 

“You’ve got the wrong number. This isn’t a 
hospital; it’s an athletic association,” Beam re- 
torted in the same spirit. 

“Is it possible, Jim, we have stopped at the 
wrong island?” Tom asked, as he peered about in 
mock anxiety. 

“Never mind; we’ll keep you all night and you 
can look for your island in the morning. Hurry 
out. I want to get hold of that old hand of 
yours. ’ ’ 

“Bring that arc light down a little closer, so 
we can see our duffle, or I’m liable to lug Jim 
out for a bundle of blankets. ’ ’ 

Beam was down by the boat in a trice and 
reaching out his long arm. 

‘ ‘ Shake, boys. I am sure it ’s a treat to see you 
two lads again.” 


154 .YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Why, you don’t look much like a consump- 
tive,” said Jim Neal, peering into his school- 
mate’s face. 

“Me! I’m no consumptive. I’m Professor 
Beam Foster, Instructor of the Duck Island 
Athletic Association. If you don’t believe it, 
ask Tod Masters.” 

“By the way, where is that short-legged part- 
ner of yours?” asked Tom, as they quickly piled 
rubber boots, guns, shells and other duffle out on 
the bank. 

“Don’t ask foolish questions. He’s asleep, of 
course. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you know Tod by this time?” put in 
Jim. “That fellow would sleep during an earth- 
quake. ’ ’ 

“That’s so. I forgot his weakness,” said 
Tom, pulling up the boat and tying it securely. 

“Do you hear them?” said Jim, tilting his ear 
and listening. 

“Hear what?” Beam returned; then, after lis- 
tening intently, ‘ ‘ Seems as if I heard the whistle 
of a duck’s wing.” 

Tom chuckled. 

‘ ‘ Of course you do. We’ve been hearing them 
all the way down. ’ ’ 

“What in the world would cause ducks to move 
in the night, this kind of weather?” 

“Because the wildest old storm you ever heard 
of is sweeping down on us,” Jim chimed in. 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 155 

That’s why we’re here. The weather report 
gave notice of it this evening, and Tom and I 
were down to the bank at dusk and we saw all 
kinds of ducks scurrying south. They were mi- 
grators, too. So we hustled back and loaded up 
our duffle and pulled out, to be sure and get here 
ahead of it.” 

wondered what brought you fellows down 
here in the middle of the night, this kind of 
weather. ’ ’ 

‘^The storm will probably be here to-morrow, 
and we would rather pull down in nice weather, 
if it is in the night, ’ ’ Tom explained. 

‘‘Sensible idea; it’s a whole lot pleasanter. 
Shall I wake up Tod ? ’ ’ 

“No, let him sleep. Tell us where to bunk 
and we’ll make up our bed. We brought our 
own blankets,” said Tom, as he dropped his load 
under the trees between the tent and the cabin. 

“We generally put visitors in the cabin, on the 
floor, but I guess we can make room for you boys 
in the tent. I haven’t seen you for so long, I 
would rather keep you close to me, so we can 
talk. ’ ’ 

“That suits us, if we won’t crowd the 
mourners. ’ ’ 

“I guess not. Tod’s asleep, and I don’t take 
up much room. We’ll carry some of this plun- 
der into the cabin, first ; then we ’ll go in the tent 
and fix up your bed.” 


156 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

Everything was stored in the cabin except the 
guns, boots, and shells, and Beam led the way 
into the little tent. 

‘^Pretty close quarters,’’ he said apologetic- 
ally, in a low tone, ‘‘but I guess we can tuck 
you away in that corner. ’ ’ 

“Plenty of room,” Tom returned in a half 
whisper; “I can sleep in a pocket if necessary.” 

“Anything goes with me,” Jim added, un- 
rolling the blankets. 

A cozy bed was soon arranged and the boys 
began to undress. 

“Did you notice that Jim has a pump gun?” 
asked Tom, with a grin, as he unlaced his shoes. 

“No, I didn’t look at his gun. Is it possible, 
Jim, you have come down to that?” said Beam 
with reproachful gravity. 

“Wait till you fellows see that gun in action 
to-morrow, and you’ll wish you had one,” the 
owner of the pump gun retorted. “I’ll keep 
you all retrieving ducks.” 

“I can see where it would be handy for crip- 
ples, or in a big flock, but they’re such awkward, 
ungainly things to persons used to a double bar- 
rel, ’ ’ remarked Beam. 

“Yes, a fellow might get in a corner where 
they would be just the thing,” Tom commented, 
“but all the same I’ll take my Greener.” 

“If Jim can’t hit anything flying with it, we 
can let him sit in the blind and shoot cripples.” 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 157 


^‘Yes, lie’ll come in handy there.” 

‘‘Hark,” said Jim, and all listened. 

“Well, if it isn’t raining!” and Beam looked 
at the others in astonishment. 

“I thought I saw clouds gradually working 
over the bluffs, when we came down,” Tom re- 
marked. 

“Well, with all those ducks hurrying south 
this evening and this rain, we know what’s up 
now. Let’s get to sleep. We want to be ready 
at daylight.” Beam’s face lighted up with an- 
ticipation as he spoke. 

“And Tod’s sleeping through it all,” Jim said, 
with a glance at the prostrate form swathed in 
blankets. 

“All ready; switch off the lights,” came in 
muffled tones from under Tom’s blankets, and in 
two minutes all was dark and silent. 

Presently he said : 

“Got an alarm clock 

“Yes ; it weighs a hundred and sixty pounds,” 
returned Beam softly. 

“All right; just so it works,” and silence] 
reigned again. 

Gradually the soft patter of the rain lulled the 
boys to sleep. 

Patter, patter the rain kept on. Soon the wind 
began to rise and sob and moan through the 
trees. Then it shifted to the northwest and the 
temperature began to drop rapidly. Fme, driv- 


158 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

ing snowflakes pelted the tent and the wind grew 
higher and wilder, until a genuine northwester 
was in full blast. 

The duck-hunters slept through it peacefully 
and calmly. Only Beam stirred uneasily once 
or twice and half awoke; but the roar of the 
storm lulled him to sleep again and he drifted 
back into dreamland. 

At four o’clock he was broad awake; partly 
because it was his time to wake up and partly 
because he felt the end of his nose getting cold. 

He struck a light, looked at his watch, and 
then dressed and went out. 

The gale was at its height and the air cold and 
raw. He went into the cabin and built a fire in 
the little cook-stove, sliced the bacon and found 
the eggs. Then he put the water on to boil and 
went back to the tent. 

‘‘What time is it?” and he recognized Tod’s 
voice. 

“About four-thirty. I’ve built a fire and 
started breakfast. I tell you it’s a peeler of a 
storm.” 

“I noticed by the end of my nose and the roar 
of that wind that something was up,” said Tod, 
yawning in an ample way, as he started to dress. 
“We finally caught it good and hard. The boys 
will have a wild old ride down the river. Too 
bad they aren’t here now, so we could all start 
out with a hot breakfast.” 

“They won’t have much trouble coming down 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 159 


the river. The wind is in the north, so the waves 
won’t be very high,” and Beam had no difficulty 
in keeping his face straight in the dark. 

‘‘Oh, dear! I can’t find anything,” Tod 
grumbled as he felt for the lantern and struck 
a match. “Shoes here and pants there. 
What — ” Then he stared and looked up at 
Beam, who was smiling expansively. 

“Did those two fellows crawl in here in the 
night and me not know it?” and he was over 
shaking the sleep from their eyes, with more 
vigor than elegance. 

“Say, wake up here and give an explanation! 
I’ve a notion to lick all three of you for this 
trick. ’ ’ 

“You be licking Tom and Jim, and I’ll see to 
the breakfast,” called Beam as he disappeared. 

“You were snoring so beautifully, we didn’t 
like to interrupt the performance,” Jim yawned 
as he started to dress. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll let it pass this 
time. But isn’t this a wild old twister, though? 
Ought to he ducks enough to-day.” 

“Let’s get a move on us and help Beam get 
breakfast,” said Tom energetically. “We want 
to do our share of the work. Whew ! the end of 
my nose is cold.” 

“We’ll need plenty of clothes on to-day, sit- 
ting in the blind,” Jim remarked, shivering in the 
chill air. 

“How many decoys did you bring?” 


160 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

‘ ^ Two dozen. ’ ’ 

‘^And Beam and I have three dozen. That 
makes five. That 11 be enough on a pinch. 

By this time the boys were dressed, and hur- 
ried over to the cabin to assist Beam. They 
found him frying eggs and bacon and preparing 
the coffee. 

‘‘My, but that smells good,’^ said Tod with a 
longing sniff. 

“Anything smells good to you in the eat line. 
Step lively now and set the table. Better use 
the silver knives and forks for company.’’ 

“Sure. I’ll attend to that. Where are the 
clean napkins ? ’ ’ 

“In one of the drawers of the sideboard; no, 
come to think, I used the last one to wash the 
frying-pan with. Never mind, they can use their 
sweaters. Gather round the frugal board while 
everything is hot. We want to be over at the 
Point by daylight. Bacon and eggs, bread and 
butter and coffee; that’s all you get, gentlemen,” 
said Beam, placing the smoking breakfast on the 
table. 

“No well-organized duck-hunter wants any 
better,” and Tom showed his sincerity by get- 
ting down to business at once. 

“Hear that wind roar,” Jim remarked as he 
sipped his steaming coffee; “we’ll have some fun 
getting the decoys out.” 

“That won’t take long with two boats,” Beam 
responded cheerily. “Better put them in one 


OVER DECOYS ON' THE RIVER 161 

bunch. Four can shoot /from one blind all right. 
Besides, we want to^/ do a little visiting. I 
haven T seen you fellows in a coon^s age.’^ 

‘‘Where you going to put them?^’ asked Jim, 
helping himself to morb bacon and another egg. 

“Across on Oak Pomt. The wind won’t hit 
us so much there, and \ what there is will be in 
our backs. That brings ithe ducks in front of us, 
as they always come iii against the wind to 
light.” 

“Wonder if the waves are very high?” 

“Not with a downstream wind ; if it were blow- 
ing upstream, we’d have some fun retrieving our 
birds.” 

The meal was hurried through ; sweaters, rub- 
ber boots and plenty of warm clothing donned, 
shell pockets filled, and they were ready. 

The dull gray of the morning was breaking as 
they filed down to the river bank. The storm 
had ceased, but a blanket of rough, angry-looking 
clouds covered the sky and sped before the wind, 
which roared through the trees like a demon in 
pain. 

“Cracky! but this 5,s one of the blizzards we 
read about,” Tom laughed as he was almost car- 
ried from his feet, on reaching the river bank. 

“Hustle our decoys into the boat. Tod,” called 
Beam. “I’ll take Tom in with me and you go 
in Jim’s boat.” 

“I’m to row, remember.” 

“No, I’d better row. It isn’t far.” 


162 YOUNG liuCiSHClOOTERS IN CAMP 

‘‘But I insist. You mustn^t overestimate 
your strength, Beam,’’ said Tom kindly. 
“While the waves are not high, the wind is some- 
thing fierce, and you don’t want to run any risk 
of straining yourself ; it might be costly. ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, rather than hurt your feelings, you 
may row if you need the exercise,” said Beam 
resignedly. But he appreciated Tom’s kindly in- 
tentions, just the same. 

It was a wild, rough ride across the river, but 
the boys were used to it, and thought nothing of 
the danger. In fact, they rather enjoyed it. 

They reached the lee of the Point, and a few 
minutes later the decoys were in the water. 

“Now hustle and make a blind,” Beam di- 
rected; “we’ll have ducks here before we know 
it.” 

“I’ve seen fifty flocks already,” said Tod as 
he seized a hatchet and be((an to cut brush. 

“There goes a flock of two hundred bluebills 
right over the water,” crio'd Jim excitedly. 

“Let ’em go, my child.* Get to work on this 
blind,” said Tom, gatheriifg up sticks and brush 
and deftly weaving them ihto a blind. 

With four boys working, it was a short task. 
The blind was almost coi^pleted, when, without 
warning, fifty bluebills, sveeping down the river, 
swung into the decoys and splashed down among 
them. 

Every gun was leaning against a tree, several 
feet from its owner. 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 163 

The boys looked at each other, and Beam said 
softly : 

‘‘Can you reach your gun in time, TomT^ 

“I’ll try,” and Tom stole quietly toward his 
Greener. 

Two steps, and the restless, nervous birds were 
out of the water and gone. 

“Get your gun and get into the blind, any- 
how. We’ll finish it soon,” called Beam. “We 
don’t want to let any more chances like that go 
by.” 

Tom complied, but the blind was finished and 
the four hunters ready for battle before another 
shot was presented. 

“Ducks, ducks everywhere,” said Jim, looking 
far over the bottoms. 

“ Sh — here’s a bunch,” and a dozen bluebills 
swung in against the wind. 

Just as they raised their wings to drop in the 
water. Beam said, in a quick, crisp tone : 

“Give it to ’em,” and four guns belched forth. 
A second volley followed, as the ducks gathered 
themselves and hurried away. 

‘ ‘ How many f ’ ’ cried Tod. 

“I see four,” Tom answered as he ran up the 
shore to his boat. 

“Only four out of that mess?” said Beam in- 
quiringly. “I’m sure I killed a pair. ’ ’ 

“I know I did,” Tod returned quietly, “and 
probably Jim and Tom both did. The trouble 
was, two or three of us killed the same pair.” 


164 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Was it windy out there asked Beam as 
Tom returned, after picking up the ducks. 

“Oh, IVe seen stiller days, but the waves 
aren’t bad.” 

“Get down quick,” and Tom was unceremoni- 
ously jerked down out of sight. 

“What’s up?” For answer, there was a 
splash in the water, and Tom peered through 
the brush to see a pair of long-necked pintails 
sitting placidly among the decoys. 

“Let Tom and Jim take one each when they 
jump. They didn’t kill any the other time, and 
they want a chance to kill something,” said Tod 
softly, never winking an eye. 

Tom and Jim looked at each other, and the 
former said : 

“How’s that. Can you stand that, Jim?” 

“Yes, take anything from Tod.” 

‘ ‘ Then you pick the right, and I’ll take the left, 
when they jump. ’ ’ 

The boys rose in the blind, and two pintails 
rose in the air at the same time. Two guns 
cracked and two pintails jumped a little higher. 
Two more reports — and the pair of ducks hastily 
departed for the south. 

The two shooters looked at each other sheep- 
ishly and sat down in the blind. 

Tom slammed the smoking shells on the ground 
and turned to Tod : 

“You say a word and I’ll throw you in the 
river!” 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 165 


mum,’’ said Tod demurely, gazing out 
over the wind-swept river. 

‘‘I thought you could shoot,” said Tom con- 
temptuously, turning to Jim. 

‘‘I thought you could, but I see you can’t,” re- 
torted Jim. 

‘‘Never mind, boys, I can tell you just how it 
happened,” Beam, who was gently quaking 
with suppressed laughter, interrupted. “Those 
ducks jumped right up into a gale of wind, to 
start with. The charge probably drifted two 
feet. Then, they’re the meanest duck to hit over 
decoys that flies. A fellow always shoots below 
them the first barrel. It happened this time, 
when they reached the top of their jump, they 
were in a gale of wind ; so there you are. Then, 
of course, tenderfeet are not supposed to hit 
such erratic fowls very often, ’ ’ and Beam gazed 
abstractedly out over the decoys. 

Jim nudged his partner : “ What do you think 
of that?” 

“Let it pass; he’s sick,” said Tom, winking 
at Tod. 

Suddenly Beam snatched up his gun and threw 
it to his shoulder. Two quick reports followed, 
then a splash, splash ! 

“What’s the cause of the disturbance?” quer- 
ied Tom. Then he peered through the blind and 
saw two pintails kicking among the decoys. 

“He got your pintails, Jim.” 

“Don’t call them my pintails,” retorted that 


166 [TOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


disgusted duck-liunter, as Beam started for the 
boat. The latter was out among the decoys and 
had just picked up the two ducks, when Tod 
called out: 

^‘Drop down in the boat, quick, and keep still. 

Beam complied without a word, for he knew 
what was up, and the next instant a flock swept 
over the decoys from the north. They saw the 
boat and darted up in the air just as six barrels 
volleyed and banged and roared. A splash and 
a thump ! — then all was quiet save the whistling 
of the wind. 

Beam straightened up and called out in the 
teeth of the gale : 

‘‘Who did thatr’ for one of the ducks had 
dropped squarely in the boat. 

“I did it with my little gun,’^ Tom shouted 
back. “I figured on its dropping there to save 
you the trouble of picking it up. I knew it 
wouldn’t hit you.” 

“Well, please just don’t try the experiment 
any more. I’m no target for you fellows to 
heave dead ducks at. ’ ’ 

“Beg your pardon, but it was such a nice op- 
portunity to drop a duck in the boat, direct from 
the sky, that I couldn’t resist it,” Tom answered 
blandly. 

“The truth of the matter is,” shouted Tod, 
“he forgot you were out there at all, but he hates 
to say so. He was tickled to death to drop it 
anywhere.” 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 167 


‘ ^ That ’s about the size of it. And here are two 
decoys that have turned turtle,’^ said Beam, stop- 
ping to right two wooden ducks. 

‘‘Hurry in out of the wet. We donT want to 
drop any more ducks on you,’’ Tom called to him. 

Beam picked up the other duck and rowed in. 
He found three expansive smiles awaiting him. 

“You do first rate to hold the hag,” Tod re- 
marked calmly as he made room for his partner 
on the log. 

“Don’t wiggle or wink,” Jim said softly. 
“Here comes a flock up against the wind, right 
over the water.” 

It was a goodly bunch of ring-necks, and they 
were evidently looking for company, for they 
came up within thirty yards of the boys and pre- 
pared to alight. At this juncture, the artillery 
was turned loose, and in their fright and con- 
fusion the ducks came on past the hunters instead 
of wheeling otf. That was Jim’s opportunity, 
and he turned on his repeater. When the crack- 
ing and banging was over, he had two more down. 

“Two cripples out there; hurry up!” cried 
Beam, quickly slipping in fresh shells. A flash 
and a report, and one of the birds turned over. 
Another report, but the other duck swam out into 
the wind unharmed. 

“Aim two feet in the wind. It drifts the 
shot,” called Beam excitedly, as Tom poised his 
gun. The latter took the hint, and at the report, 
the duck drifted idly on the waves. Tom dashed 


168 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


for the boat and was out in the wind in a jiffy. 

‘‘How manyU^ asked Tod. 

“I see five, and the two Jim got with his corm 
sheller makes seven. ’ ’ 

“Oh, that isn’t so bad. Very windy out there, 
TomU’ shouted Tod, raising his voice. 

But Tom was busy, and it was too windy to 
talk. It required fifteen minutes ’ hard work be- 
fore he was back in the blind, for one of the ducks 
had drifted quite a distance. 

“No fun rowing a boat out there. I’ll tell you,’' 
he panted as he dropped in his seat. 

“I noticed that,” Beam remarked calmly. 

For half an hour there was a lull in the shoot- 
ing. The boys grew impatient, and were about 
to return to camp, when three flocks came in, only 
a few minutes apart, giving them fine shooting. 
Then another long wait followed. 

‘ ‘ May as well go to camp, I guess, ’ ’ concluded 
Beam, who had arisen and was searching the sky 
and river for ducks. 

“I guess so. The flight is about over with for 
to-day. Wind’s going down a little, too,” said 
Tom, idly drumming on the gun-barrel with his 
fingers. 

“Let’s wait five minutes, and if nothing shows 
up, we’ll go,” was Tod’s suggestion. 

This was agreed to, but before a quarter of the 
time had elapsed. Tod suddenly gasped out : 

“For the land sakes, look here !” 



“the artillery was turned loose” — Page 167 




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j.** ■'i '’^'^* !t^‘ i’ -tis •■'* " jT^sk v* -?-■ ' ■* -V -•'"v . ‘ 



OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 169 


Before the boys could realize the situation, a 
hundred bluebills were standing on their tails 
over the blind, at a distance of from twenty feet 
to twenty yards. They had come into the decoys, 
but for some unaccountable reason, instead of 
dropping in the water, had continued on up over 
the blind. 

It was hard to tell for a moment which was 
the most flustered, the ducks or the hunters. It 
was all so unexpected. 

Beam collected his wits first. 

‘‘Pick your duck and give it to ^em,’’ and the 
fusillade began. 

It was all over in ten seconds. Of course, the 
pump gun was the last to stop barking, but they 
were all empty at last and the boys, flushed with 
excitement, paused to take breath. 

“Check up here. How many, TodP’ said 
Beam sternly. 

“DidnT get a clam,” and Tod threw his smok- 
ing shells in the water. 

“Tom?” 

“I — I — ^got what Tod did,” said Tom, scratch- 
ing his head sheepishly. 

“Jim?” 

“I think I knocked one with the last shell. It 
fell up in the woods,” replied Jim meekly. 

“How many did you get your own self?” re- 
torted Tod. 

“I am pleased to inform you that I think I 


170 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


blew one into fragments with the first barrel. 
The second shot was a rank miss. There you 
have it.’’ 

^‘Show us the fragments,” Tod insisted. 

‘^The fragments strew the sea,” and Beam 
swept his hand around the horizon, and tried to 
look dramatic. 

^‘Too thin,” said Tom with a shake of the 
head. ‘^Show us some of the pieces, or you go 
down for a goose egg with the rest of us. ’ ’ 

Don’t count me in with you poor shooters,” 
cried Jim disdainfully, have one up in the 
woods.” 

^^Go find it, or you go in for the biggest goose 
egg of all, for you had five chances,” was Tom’s 
merciless reply, and Jim started for the woods. 

‘‘He doesn’t look very sanguine,” laughed 
Tom, as he watched his friend stroll up through 
the woods. 

Then Beam and Tom looked at each other. It 
was too much, and they burst into a roar of 
laughter. 

“Wasn’t that the worst mix up you ever got 
into 1 ’ ’ said Tom, dropping on a log and holding 
his sides with laughter. 

“Oh, they were too close, of course,” said 
Beam, checking his mirth. 

“If I’d had a good hickory fish pole,” Tod 
volunteered, “I could have killed one or two that 
I know of. In fact, I struck at the first one with 
my gun barrel before I shot. ’ ’ 


OVER DECOYS ON THE RIVER 171 


^^Look here, coming,” said Beam. 

In the distance they saw Jim leisurely return- 
ing, swinging a hluehill by the leg. 

he didnT get one, after all. Tally one 
for Jim,” and a hluehill was tossed into the 
blind. 

Beam picked up the duck gravely and looked 
it over carefully. 

Seems to he freshly killed,” he murmured. 

‘‘I’ll tell you what let’s do with that duck,” 
Tom suggested; “let’s have it stuffed and 
mounted and keep it as a souvenir to remind us 
of how we killed one duck out of eleven shots, at 
a range of forty feet. V^e’ll tell the story to 
our grandchildren. ’ ’ 

“How ‘we’ killed a duck,” and Jim gazed out 
over the water abstractedly. 

“Oh, well, a duck-hunter, like a fisherman, is 
supposed to draw the long bow occasionally,” 
said Tom soothingly. 

“I move we quit with that shot and go to camp 
for some hot coffee,” Beam proposed. 

“Second the motion!” cried Tod fervently. 
It is unnecessary to add that the motion was 
promptly carried. 

“Better leave our decoys right here,” was 
Beam’s next proposition. “It will probably 
calm down to-night and we’ll have a quiet shoot 
in the morning at daylight. They’re anchored 
with good strong cords.” 

“That arrangement is satisfactory; come on. 


172 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


By the way, did anybody count the ducks said 
Torn. 

“Forty-one, with that last one that Jim scared 
to death,’’ replied Tod, starting for the boats. 

Tom stopped. 

“Just how it was! That duck died of heart- 
failure,” but Jim had shouldered his pump and 
was half-way to the boat, so there was no argu- 
ment. 

The wind had eased up a trifle, but was still 
blowing a stiff gale when the boys crossed over 
to camp. 

“Nibs will be glad to get out again,” said 
Beam as he stepped ashore. “I tied him in the 
tent. I knew he would be no use over there, only 
sit and shiver.” 

He walked up to the tent, where a joyful bark 
heralded his approach. 

“There, old fellow, go out and take a run.” 
He unsnapped the chain, and Nibs, after wel- 
coming his friends in true dog fashion, dashed 
away through the wood. 

Beam built a fire while the others were hanging 
up the ducks, and soon the quartet of hilarious 
hunters were jollying each other around the 
stove, while they prepared a hot dinner. 


CHAPTER Xn 


THE MOBNINQ SHOOT 

T he boys sat at ease around the fire in the 
cabin the remainder of the day. Old 
times were discussed, but their chief in- 
terest was in the day’s shoot. That had to be 
thoroughly gone over, of course, and it took 
time ; so it was night before they realized it. 

They retired early, as they wished to get out 
early in the morning. 

‘Hf it clears olf to-night and the wind goes 
down,” Beam said, ‘‘we want to be on the Point 
before day begins to crack.” 

‘ ‘ All right. You run the alarm-clock, ’ ’ replied 
Tom as he crawled into bed. 

“I’ll see to that. Just roll out when you hear 
a boot whiz past your head.” 

He was as good as his word, and had the boys 
up when, to use Tom’s words : “It was as dark 
as the inside of a possum. ’ ’ 

A hasty breakfast, and they were away across 
the river. 

The winds had gone to sleep and the stars 
twinkled merrily in the frosty air. They landed 
173 

/ 


174 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


at the Point, palled up the boats and were soon 
in the blind. 

‘^Plenty early,’’ Tod remarked, peering out 
over the quiet river. 

‘‘None too early,” Beam retorted. “There’ll 
be an up-river flight this morning and we want 
to catch the first straggler. Nothing like being 
here on time. I think I see streaks in the east 
now. ’ ’ 

“Let her streak,” Tom said, taking his old 
seat on the log. 

For half an hour the boys sat there, with an 
occasional shiver from some one, then Tod spoke 
again: 

“Seems to me there’s a hitch in that daybreak 
of yours.” 

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Tom 
agreed, pulling out his watch. 

He scratched a match, then threw it on the 
ground with an exclamation of disgust. 

“What’s the matter!” asked Jim. 

“It’s just three-thirty now.” 

“Well, if that isn’t a nice go,” and three dis- 
gusted duck-hunters looked at Beam. But the 
latter was equal to the emergency. He calmly 
took out his watch and, lighting a match, showed 
the dial to his irate companions. It pointed to 
a little past six. 

‘ ‘ The hair spring is caught, ’ ’ he explained. 

“So are we,” growled Tod. 

•That sally raised a laugh, and Beam said: 


THE MORNING SHOOT 175 

^‘What’s the diference. It’ll be daylight in a 
couple of hours, anyhow.” 

course! What’s a couple of hours?” re- 
turned Tod sarcastically. ^^Just fun to watch 
decoys in the dark, when it’s down below freez- 
ing.” 

^‘Well, you wanted me to be sure and get you 
out in time, and here you are,” said Beam, who 
thoroughly enjoyed the situation. 

‘‘No use kicking now,” Tom added philosoph- 
ically; “daylight will come by and by. If you 
will agree to throw that old watch in the river 
we ’ll forgive you. ’ ’ 

“Not much, but I’ll fix it when I get back to 
camp. I know what ails it. ’ ’ 

Gradually the boys grew good-natured again, 
and joked and chatfed the time away. They 
walked up and down the shore, ran foot races in 
the dark, and told stories. So the time passed 
more quickly than they thought. 

“I see a streak in the east now, all right, with- 
out looking at a watch,” said Beam, pointing 
toward the coming sunrise. 

“And I’m sure I heard the whistle of a wing,” 
cried Tom, getting into the blind; “best be 
ready.” 

“Yes, we’ll see some in a minute,” and Beam 
took his seat, followed by Tod and Jim. 

Suddenly Beam inclined his head : 

“Listen!” 

All did so, and the sound of wings could be 


176 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


heard distinctly, followed by a peculiar flutter. 

‘‘Whistlers,’’ whispered Tom. 

“Yes, they’re golden eyes, all right,” said Jim, 
“but I’m really afraid it’s too dark to see the 
decoys. ’ ’ 

“They’re right out here over the river,” whis- 
pered Beam. 

“It’s getting brighter in the east,” said Tod. 

Suddenly Beam rose to his feet and threw the 
gun to his shoulder. Two reports roared out, 
echoing and re-echoing in the still morning air. 

“What is it? I didn’t see a thing,” cried 
Tom. 

The others rose to their feet and a craning of 
necks followed. 

“A pair of whistlers just swung over the de- 
coys. I got one of them,” Beam answered, 
dashing for the boat. 

“That fellow can pretty near see ducks in the 
dark,” said Tod admiringly, as the boat started 
tiny ripples on the glassy surface of the water. 

“Hurry back,” Tom called, “there’ll be more 
in a minute.” 

“Decoys are all here,” came back from Beam 
as he sent the boat toward the shore with quick, 
powerful strokes. 

“I just caught a shadowy glimpse of that pair 
as they went over the decoys, and gave them one 
for luck,” he explained as he came into the 
blind. 


THE MORNING SHOOT 177 

“I hear them going up the river,’’ said Jim in 
a low tone. 

‘‘Yes, they’re moving now. Keep your eyes 
peeled ; we ’re liable to get a flock any minute. ’ ’ 

It was now light enough so the decoys could 
be seen plainly. Perfectly motionless they sat 
upon the water, not the faintest ripple disturbing 
its mirror-like smoothness. 

Suddenly there was the soft rustling of myr- 
iads of wings, and a cloud of bluebills swept down 
over their heads from the north, not fifty feet 
above them. It was a fascinating, nerve thrill- 
ing sight for the wild-fowler. Every one grasped 
his gun tighter and crouched low in the blind, 
but made no move to shoot. The boys knew 
their game would circle back. 

“Here they come,” whispered Beam, and a 
moment later the flock swung over the decoys. 

Before they could drop into the water, the 
guns opened out, and such a charivari of pop- 
ping and banging as followed, echoing and 
reverberating far down the Iowa bluffs ! 

When it was over, there were numerous rip- 
ples on the water where bluebills had splashed 
down to rise no more. 

Tod propounded the first question that is al- 
ways asked on such occasions: 

“How many did we get?” 

“Pour, five, six, seven. I see seven,” and Jim 
hurried to a boat. 

“Wasn’t that a beautiful flock; and they came 


178 .YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


in so nicely/^ cried Tod, executing a war dance 
in Ms glee. 

‘^One isnT dead yet/’ said Beam as Jim’s gun 
pointed out over the water. A roar followed and 
a charge of shot cut across the water. 

‘‘All dead now.” 

“Hurry up, Jim. I see a flock coming up the 
river,” Tod called excitedly. 

The former worked with feverish haste and 
soon was sending the boat swiftly up along the 
shore to where it was kept, a few yards above the 
blind. 

“You won’t have time, Jim. Send her in 
shore and drop down in the boat. They’re right 
on us, just over the water. ’ ’ 

Jim obeyed and sank out of sight just as half 
a dozen big birds swung across the decoys. 

Three putfs of smoke belched out and three 
ducks hit the water. 

Three more, and another bird went down. 

Jim arose in the boat. Two big brown-headed 
birds were passing him at close range. 

His eyes gleamed and he uttered an exclama- 
tion as he threw the gun to his shoulder. Bang ! 
and a duck splashed in the water. Bang! but 
the other went on. He worked the “corn- 
sheller” with lightning speed and swung it after 
the duck. At the report, the big duck dropped 
to the water and remained motionless. 

“Hurrah for Jim and the corn-sheller ! ” cried 
Beam, and the boys threw up their hats. 


THE MORNING SHOOT 


179 


‘^That was a nice trick to play on an orphan. 
Thought yon would have that fun all to your- 
selves, didn’t you?” Jim chuckled as he started 
out again to gather the ducks. 

“A nice bunch of redheads, all right,” cried 
Tod joyfully. 

‘‘Redheads nothing. They’re canvasbacks, 
child,” said Beam with a superior air. 

“No. Is that so? I just caught a glimpse of 
them and supposed they were redheads. That’s 
better yet. ’ ’ 

Jim quickly gathered the six birds and hurried 
in. 

“Lucky thing you were up in the boat, or we 
would have been short a pair of canvasbacks,” 
Beam remarked, as he came into the blind. 

“Hardly, my son. Had I been here, they 
would have all been killed over the decoys, ’ ’ said 
Jim, putting down his gun with an air of con- 
viction. 

“That’s so, I didn’t think of that,” demurely. 

“You want to think of it, for it’s gospel.” 

“Here comes a flock, but they’re too high to 
see the decoys,” Tod said. 

“Can’t tell. Just keep hidden and trust to 
luck.” 

Suddenly the ducks caught sight of the decoys 
and decided to come down for a visit with their 
supposed relatives. 

It is a fascinating sight and one not often seen, 
when a flock of wild-fowl takes that quick, head- 


180 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


long plunge down to the water from a high alti- 
tude. There is a peculiar twisting of the bodies 
as they shoot almost straight downward until 
they are close to the surface of the water. Then 
a slight upward curve, and they continue on in 
a straight line. 

‘ ‘ See them come down, ^ ’ cried Tod, in admira- 
tion at their graceful aerial movements. 

“Doesn’t take them long to get to the water,” 
said Tom grimly, as they crouched in the blind. 

“Now!” and four guns spoke almost together, 
as the ducks swept over the decoys. 

Another volley followed, and then Jim turned 
loose his dogs of war. The birds had scattered 
and he caught sight of one climbing in the air. 
He fired, but the duck climbed higher. He threw 
in another shell, and sent a second charge up 
in the air. The duck continued to climb. 

By this time the others were watching him 
with interest. 

“Get him or break a hat-pin,” cried Tod. 

In desperation, Jim threw in his last shell 
when the duck was fifty yards up in the air. It 
was his last and luckiest shot. At the report the 
duck doubled up and dropped to the water with 
a loud “spat.” 

“Good shot, Jimmy, you chased him pretty 
near to the clouds,” laughed Beam, as he started 
for the boat to retrieve the game. 

“Six down, out in front, and that sky-scraper 


THE MORNING SHOOT 


181 


that Jim paralyzed,’’ said Tod, glancing over 
the decoys. 

“Guess I’ll take the other boat and help, I 
want to warm up,” and Tom started out for the 
other boat. 

It was well on toward sunrise now, a clear, 
fine morning giving promise of a fair day. The 
flight ceased for a short time, giving the young 
hunters an opportunity of warming the log, while 
they visited and watched for ducks. 

Then the birds began to come again from all 
points of the compass. About nine o ’clock, how- 
ever, a light breeze sprang up from the south, 
and the flight seemed to have stopped for good. 

“Guess our fun is about over for to-day,” 
Beam remarked, scanning the air in the vain 
hope of seeing more wild fowl. 

“Yes,” said Tod, “let’s go back to camp. I 
must take these ducks up and get them off to- 
day.” 

“Do you boys ship your ducks!” asked Tom. 

“Yes, we’re trying to do enough hunting 
and trapping to pay Beam’s doctor’s bill and 
expenses.” 

“Besides, I have a trained nurse, you know, 
and they’re costly,” said Beam, turning a quiz- 
zical glance toward Tod. 

“Humph! Trained nurse! Here, Jim, is the 
only genuine trained nurse in captivity.” 

“Twenty-five a week!” asked Jim. 


182 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^Sure; and perquisites/’ Tod returned 
blandly. 

‘‘ ‘Perquisites/ is good. I guess we better go 
to camp on that/’ and Jim picked up his gun 
and filed out of the blind, while the rest followed 
suit. 

With the two boats, it only required about 
half an hour’s work to pick up the decoys and 
cross over to camp. 

“I’ll just get a bite to eat and then start up 
with these ducks, ’ ’ said Tod as they landed. 

“We’ll help row you up,” replied Tom, “and 
by the way, you boys take all these ducks except 
about half a dozen apiece for us. All we want 
is a mess ; you may just as well ship the balance. ’ ’ 

Beam started to protest, but Tom wouldn’t 
listen. 

“Jim and I want to do something toward help- 
ing you to get well, so we’ll help pay the trained 
nurse;” looking gravely at Tod. 

“Yes, I want to see that the nurse gets his 
money,” Jim chimed in, as he stepped out of the 
boat. 

So that deal was settled. 

After lunch the ducks were loaded, six dozen 
of them, and the three boys seated themselves in 
Beam’s boat with two pairs of oars, trailing the 
other boat behind. 

“Keep on improving as you have, and you 
will be tough as a pine-knot by spring,” said 


THE MORNING SHOOT 


183 


Tom affectionately, as he shook hands with his 
old friend. 

‘‘Don’t be too strenuous and catch cold,” was 
Jim’s advice as he grasped Beam’s hand in a 
hearty clasp. 

“No danger of that while I have a trained 
nurse, you know,” laughed Beam. 

“That’s so. I forgot the trained nurse.” 

“We’ll come down sometime this winter and 
have a rabbit and coon hunt with you,” Tom 
called hack as they pulled out. 

“Sure. Don’t forget it,” returned Beam, 
watching them until they were far up the river. 
iThen he went back to camp, cleaned the guns 
and did the other work, and then sat down to 
read and rest. 


CHAPTEE XIII 


TWO STEANGER GUESTS 

I Ti was nearly sundown when Tod returned, 
for the days were getting short, showing 
that winter was at hand. 

“You didnT make quite such a quick trip this 
time,’’ said Beam, as the “trained nurse” 
landed. 

“No, I was delayed one way and another; in 
luck to get here early as I did,” Tod replied, as 
he tied the boat and they walked up to camp 
with the freight, for he always brought back 
about the same number of bundles and packages. 

“Had quite a talk with your father,” he re- 
marked, throwing his load on the table in the 
cabin. “He wanted to know if Mr. Johnson had 
been back here yet. ’ ’ 

“That was a queer question. I wonder who 
that man Johnson is?” 

“I’ll give it up. Your father asked me if 
we had been around over the island much. I 
told him we had been all over it at different 
times with the target rifle. 

“He didn’t say anything more, and then I 
told him about the crank that warned you about 
the island that day. He laughed and said it 
184 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


185 


was probably one of the sort of men that likes 
to stuff people with blood and thunder yarns. 
He said that years ago it used to be headquar- 
ters all along these bluffs for horse thieves, 
robbers, and outlaws, but they were cleaned out 
long ago. From his actions, I think he knows 
more than he tells. But we canT make him talk 
if he don’t want to. One thing sure, he is satis- 
fied the island’s all right now, or he wouldn’t 
let you stay down here.” 

^‘Did you mention those noises the night of 
the thunder-storm?” 

‘‘Yes, but he said he couldn’t explain it. That 
if we couldn’t find any signs next day of any- 
thing being on the island, the cries must have 
been imaginary, and that’s about the size of it.” 

“I’ll get him to tell me more about those old 
days sometime. Meanwhile, let’s forget it. 
What’s in this paper?” 

Tod laughed. 

“That’s a present from Tom and Jim. They 
went to King & Hamer’s and bought the finest 
porterhouse steak in the shop and sent it down. 
They said we must be tired of duck meat and this 
was for a change.” 

A suspicion of moisture crept into Beam’s 
eyes, as he said: 

“Two mighty kind-hearted boys, I’m telling 
you. Tod.” 

“Yes, sir. You can bank on them every time. 


186 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


They had a jolly trip down here, too,’^ said Tod, 
as he hung up his coat. 

^‘Did Doc Hall have any more instructions U ’ 

‘‘No, just keep right on sleeping out in the 
tent. [We must get up a good pile of stove 
wood, for one thing, before the snow and cold 
comes. 

“Yes, and bank up the cabin; and the tent, too, 
for that matter.’’ 

“Do you really think you dare sleep in the 
tent when it gets below zero, with a foot or two 
of snow?” 

Beam laughed. 

“I’m not afraid to try it with plenty of blan- 
kets. Doc Hall seems to think it is the proper 
thing to do, and he ought to know. If we freeze 
up, we’ll adjourn to the cabin and build a fire.” 

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to move the tent 
up a little closer to the cabin?” Tod suggested. 

“Probably it would. Then if a ten-foot snow- 
bank piles up in the night, we can tunnel through 
to the cabin.” 

Those were busy days that followed. 

The boys set out in earnest to do their “fall 
work” as they termed it. An ample store of 
wood was chopped and corded up for winter use. 

The cabin was banked with earth and leaves so 
the wintry winds could not whistle under the 
floor. Then the tent was moved nearer and made 
snug and tight at the bottom, and a little trench 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


187 


cut around it so the water would drain away in- 
stead of running under it. 

Tod made another trip up home and brought 
back a pile of old rugs and bits of carpet. The 
floor of the tent was covered with a thick layer 
of dry, dead leaves, and over these the rugs and 
carpet were spread. 

He also brought back plenty of reading mat- 
ter, with bacon, flour and an ample store of pro- 
visions that would keep any length of time in 
cool weather. 

For fresh meat, they depended on the guns to 
bag rabbits, squirrels, quail, ruffed grouse and 
other game. Their hunt with Tom and Jim 
ended the duck shooting season, as they knew 
it would from the lateness of the flight. 

An occasional bunch of fish ducks whistled 
around the river, but the boys had little use for 
their rank flesh and let them alone. 

As Tod remarked: 

‘‘We won’t eat them as long as we can get 
muskrats and rubber boots.” 

Everything was finally shipshape for winter 
and the boys had nothing to do but row, walk, 
practice with the little target rifle and loaf, while 
waiting for a freeze up. 

One calm, peaceful afternoon they were sitting 
upon the old log, indulging in that ever-fasci- 
nating pastime of watching the wide river, and 
talking when they felt like it. 


188 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

‘Ht wonT be long now until tbe ice begins to 
run,” Tod remarked, as be shied a pebble at a 
turtle head floating by, out in the current. The 
pebble made a splash about a foot from the 
black head, which took the hint and promptly dis- 
appeared. 

‘‘No, wefll soon see plenty of it,” Beam re- 
joined with a yawn. 

“Let her come. We’re fixed for winter.” 

“We may be snowed in for three months,” 
said Beam, laughing. 

“I don’t care. Let it snow.” 

“Who is this coming?” Beam straightened 
up and looked down the river. 

“I’ll give it up. A couple of fellows out for 
exercise, maybe.” 

A skiff containing two men worked up slowly 
against the stiff current. 

“Wonder if they’re going to land here?” 
mused Tod. 

“Probably want to stay all night with us. 
They’re edging over this way,” Beam replied 
with a laugh. 

Stranger things than that have happened, 
my son.” 

“They’re coming here, all right,” said Beam 
in a low tone, as the boat headed for the landing. 

A few minutes later it grated on the sand and 
the man in the stern called out: 

“Can you tell us how far it is up to the next 
town ? ’ ’ 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


189 


^ ‘About four miles, Tod replied. 

“Is that so? It^s farther than I thought. 
Are you good for four miles more this evening, 
Doc?’’ to his partner. 

“No, I’m bushed. Can’t row another stroke, 
until I rest a bit, anyhow, ’ ’ and the rower mopped 
his brow wearily. 

“Let’s land awhile and rest up, then we’ll 
figure on it,” returned the other cheerily, step- 
ping out and pulling up the boat. 

“Pretty hard work against this current,” said 
Beam politely. 

“We found that out,” said the rower with a 
short laugh, as he unshipped the oars. 

The two men walked up the bank and seated 
themselves upon the log. 

They were well dressed and looked like busi- 
ness men. The man who had first spoken en- 
gaged the boys in conversation, and in a very 
short time had made a favorable impression. 
He was a good talker, with a magnetic, winning 
way, and before they had been there ten minutes. 
Beam invited them to remain all night on the is- 
land. 

“We haven’t much in the way of accommoda- 
tions,” he said apologetically, “but you are 
welcome to sleep on the floor in the cabin; 
I see you have blankets. We sleep in the 
tent.” 

“Thanks. What do you say. Doc? Shall we 
stay and go up in the morning when we are 


190 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

fresh U’ and the attractive man glanced at his 
companion. 

‘‘Yes, let’s stay. I’m tired out.” 

“Then we accept your hospitality and thank 
you very much,” with a cordial nod. 

“No thanks are necessary. It is only a favor 
we would ask if our positions were reversed,” 
said Beam simply. 

“And the favor would be quickly granted, I 
assure you,” returned the other pleasantly. 
“We have a lunch with us, so we do not need to 
bother you for food.” 

“We will help you out with some hot coffee, 
anyhow.” 

“We won’t refuse that,” laughed the stranger. 

“It’s getting late; I’ll go in and stir up the 
fire,” said Tod, rising from the log. 

“And by the way, since we are to remain with 
you all night, it occurs to me that we had better 
give you our names, so you will know whom you 
are entertaining,” continued the stranger. 
“Mine is Wrapp, and my friend is Doctor Min- 
ton; both of Chicago.” 

“Glad to know you, gentlemen. I am Beam 
Foster, and my friend is Tod Masters. I am 
living out here in the woods trying to regain 
my health, and my friend here is my ‘trained 
nurse,’ ” said Beam with a smile. 

“The doctor here is a great believer in out- 
door life as a curative agent,” returned Mr. 
Wrapp, looking at his friend. 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


191 


very excellent prescription, but I should 
recommend higher ground,’’ said the latter 
calmly; ‘‘the miasmatic influences of the low 
land along the river are quite prone to defeat 
the primary object of coming out in the forest, 
by impregnating the system with the fever virus, 
thereby weakening the whole physical struc- 
ture. ’ ’ 

“I didn’t think anything about that part of it; 
my doctor told me it was a case of get out in 
the woods or die, and we came to the most con- 
venient, secluded spot. I have been gaining 
right along since I came here.” 

“Oh, of course in some systems the fever does 
not easily get a foothold, but the danger is al- 
ways present. How much longer do you intend 
to remain here!” 

“I don’t know. Until I am well, I suppose. 
Probably all winter.” 

“I should hardly recommend that course, but 
your physician undoubtedly understands the 
case, and you will be guided by his judgment,” 
said Doctor Minton serenely. 

Here Nibs came forward with a friendly wag 
of the tail, to claim recognition. 

“A setter, eh!” and Mr. Wrapp patted the 
big head kindly. 

“Yes, and he’s a kind of nuisance now that 
the hunting season is over. We have traps set 
for mink and coon, and we have to watch that 
he doesn’t get into them. We keep him chained 


192 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


in the tent at night. If we don’t, he is liable to 
chase rabbits and maybe get caught. ’ ’ 

The short November afternoon drew to a close 
and Tod withdrew to prepare supper, while 
Beam chatted with their guests. 

Mr. Wrapp was an excellent story teller and 
a pleasant conversationalist, and before the 
evening was far advanced both boys mentally 
wished their guests would remain a week. 

But they grew drowsy very early, and finally 
Beam remarked : 

‘‘I don’t know when I’ve been so sleepy, and 
it isn’t late, either. I guess our row in the 
wind must have caused it.” 

‘‘I can hardly keep my eyes open,” said Tod 
with a yawn. 

‘‘Rowing in the wind does certainly tend to 
make a man sleepy,” Mr. Wrapp agreed, with 
another yawn, ‘ ‘ and I propose we all turn in. ’ ’ 

His proposition suited everybody, so the 
blankets were unrolled and a bed arranged upon 
the cabin fioor. Then with good-nights. Beam 
and Tod retired to the tent. 

“They’re the kind of fellows I like,” Tod re- 
marked as they were undressing, “jolly, friendly 
chaps, full of stories and jokes.” 

“Yes, especially that man Wrapp. I wish 
they could camp by us for a week. We’d have 
some jolly old times.” 

“Wouldn’t we, thoughU’ 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


193 


some fun to be out in the woods with 
men like those/’ Beam continued, ^‘they’re not 
a bit stuck up. Just everyday fellows, if they 
are from the city. I wish more of that kind of 
men would come out in the woods, instead of 
the fussy, cranky sort that’s always finding fault 
"and sticking up their noses at everything that 
isn’t just nice.” 

‘‘So do I. I’d gladly row a boat all day for 
a man like Wrapp, just to hear him talk and tell 
stories. ’ ’ 

“Maybe we can persuade them to come out 
here again sometime. Get them up a dandy 
breakfast in the morning, and let them see how 
we live in the woods.” 

“I’ll give them the best in the shop, you may 
be sure.” 

“Did you ever camp out with one of those 
cranky soreheads that’s always finding fault 
with everything!” Beam asked, as he crawled 
imder the blankets. 

“Once, and I don’t hanker for any more of it.” 

“I did twice, and I’d sooner have the seven 
year itch.” 

“So would I. But I’m sleepy and I want to 
get up early, and get those men a good break- 
fast,” and Tod rolled over and in a few minutes 
was in the land of dreams. 

Beam soon followed suit, and quiet reigned 
supreme over the island. For hours that quiet 


194 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

continued. Then, shortly after the midnight 
hour, the hoot of an owl was heard at the upper 
end of the island. 

A moment later the cabin door opened softly, 
and two forms stole out into the night. A few 
whispered words, and one of them silently dis- 
appeared in the darkness to the north. The 
other stood motionless as a statue by the corner 
of the cabin. Now it cast furtive glances toward 
the tent where Tod was snoring audibly, then 
peered impatiently into the darkness toward the 
upper end of the island. 

A cool night breeze sprang up, sighing softly 
through the naked branches of the trees, causing 
the silent form to pull up the collar of its coat, 
and draw down its head like a turtle. Slowly 
the minutes went by. After a time, the figure, 
with an impatient gesture, glanced toward the 
tent and then began pacing slowly and silently 
to and fro by the side of the cabin. 

An hour passed by, and still the silent, meas- 
ured tread continued. Then the night breeze 
died away, and the sighing branches were still 
once more. Suddenly the pacing form stopped 
and listened. Presently a slight crackling of 
brush was heard, and a moment later another 
figure came out of the darkness. A few whis- 
pered words, and both disappeared in the cabin 
and closed the door. 

Beam and Tod slept on, utterly unconscious 
of this little drama. 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 195 

It was after daylight when Beam awoke, 
yawned and stretched. 

“Gee! wonder if I’ve overslept. Come, Tod!* 
Roll out and start breakfast.’^ 

Tod rolled over sleepily and looked at his 
watch. “I should say! It’s getting late. I’m 
due to start breakfast right now, ’ ’ and he sprang 
up and began dressing. 

“I don’t know when I’ve slept that way; ac- 
tually slept so long my head aches a little,” said 
Beam, hurrying into his clothes. 

“That’s the way you ought to sleep every 
night, instead of dozing with one eye open,” said 
Tod, as he finished dressing. 

“Wonder if our lodgers slept that way?” Beam 
remarked. 

“Probably. They had a hard row against the 
current,” replied Tod, as he stepped out and 
rapped on the cabin door. 

“Come in,” was the cheerful response, and 
Tod opened the door and stepped in. 

He found Mr. Wrapp yawning and dressing, 
while Dr. Minton was dressed and rolling up the 
blankets. 

“Excuse me for intruding, but this is our 
kitchen,” Tod laughed apologetically. 

“Good morning. Don’t mention it. I guess 
we all slept like dogs last night,” said Mr. 
Wrapp, yawning again. 

“Beam and I did, I know. We didn’t know 
a thing till six- thirty.” 


196 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Bless me, is it that late? Let’s go down to 
the river and wash the sleep out of our eyes, 
Doc, ’ ’ and the two men walked down to the bank, 
while Tod built a fire and started breakfast. 

“Sorry you gentlemen must leave so soon,” 
said Beam with genuine regret, as they were re- 
freshing themselves with bacon and eggs and cof- 
fee. 

“Yes, so am I. Wish we could stay a week,” 
returned Mr. Wrapp cordially, “but we are only 
out on a short vacation and it’s up to-morrow, 
so we must get back to Chicago. ’ ’ 

“Do you have good duck shooting here?” 
asked Dr. Minton. 

“Yes, we had fine shooting earlier in the fall, 
and we generally get a good spring flight,” Beam 
replied. 

“I am a great lover of duck shooting. It is 
just* possible we may be able to get out in the 
spring and have a hunt with you ; that is, if you 
remain on the island till then. ’ ’ 

“We’ll be glad to have both of you come,” 
replied Beam, his face lighting up with pleasure. 
“If we stay all winter, we shall remain until the 
spring flight is over.” 

“Thank you. If we are in this part of the 
country, we will probably come,” was the reply, 
as they arose from the table. 

Shortly after, their new friends departed, and 
Beam and Tod were once more alone. 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 197 

‘‘Sorry to have them go/’ said Beam regret- 
fully, watching the receding boat. 

“Yes, so am 1. They’re mighty good com- 
pany. ’ ’ 

“We may see them again in the spring,” 
Beam rejoined hopefully, as they went back to 
the cabin to clean up the morning work. 

A few days later there was a sharp cold snap, 
and ice began to drift in the river. The cakes 
increased in size and thickness, and in a day or 
two the river was frozen over. Beam gained in 
health, strength and weight every day ; and eat ! 
he fairly rivaled Tod at his best. In fact, Tod 
offered to give up the medal. 

“Pooh, I don’t eat half what you do,” Beam 
retorted in reply to Tod’s insinuation, one cold 
morning in December, when they were storing 
away an unusually large supply of bacon, eggs, 
buckwheat cakes, coffee and other dainties. 

“You put up a mighty good imitation,” said 
Tod, helping himself to his tenth cake. 

“Of course; anybody would eat, living out in 
this cold air, with the exercise we have. But 
when you come to talk of me eating as much 
as you do, why that is too wild a stretch of the 
imagination.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. One sure thing: if your 
appetite continues to improve the way it has 
lately. I’ll have to go up and see Doc Hall about 
getting something to check it.” 


198 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Beam laughed. 

“WouldnT Doc chuckle if he could be here 
once at meal time! He knows I haven’t eaten 
enough the last two years to keep a sparrow.” 

‘‘You ought to have done this a year or two 
ago. Maybe that fall on the bridge was a bless- 
ing in disguise, for it sent you out in the woods 
where you ought to be.” 

“Probably it was; looks that way now.” 

“Do you know,” pursued Tod, “I’ve about 
concluded that a person can cure most any dis- 
ease, if he will just throw away his medicine and 
come out in the woods and hustle around and 
fish and row and hunt.” 

“You’re a trained nurse, you ought to know,” 
said Beam, his face wrinkling in a smile at Tod’s 
earnestness. “Why don’t you write an article 
embodying those ideas and send it to the mag- 
azines 1 ’ ’ 

“For eleven reasons,” Tod returned promptly. 
“The first is, I would soon have the doctors after 
me, and the other ten are, I don’t just know how 
to write articles. If we cure you up. I’ll be sat- 
isfied.” 

“By the way, not to change the subject, hadn’t 
we better cut a hole in the ice somewhere and 
catch a mess of fish for a change of diet? I 
imagine they would taste good again.” 

“Yes, I’ve been thinking of it, myself. And 
by the way,” and Tod’s face took on an amused 


TWO STRANGER GUESTS 


199 


smile, notice Dutch John and the Ropers 
haven T been over so often since we took up our 
trot-line. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, they are like everybody else, glad to do 
favors when there is a show of getting some in 
return. That^s human nature. Still we can’t 
complain of them. .They’ve been very kind to 
us.” 

“I wonder if any of them have seen that 
strange light since ! ’ ’ 

“Probably not, or we would have heard of it 
before this,” replied Beam, his mind reverting 
to his own experience. Then the impulse seized 
him to tell Tod the whole affair, and he said: 

“Tod, I have a confession to make.” 

“Out with it. Been killing somebody?” 

“Not quite as bad as that.” 

And Beam told the whole story, of that rest- 
less night’s paddle in the canoe, and the lights 
and the silent boat. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” asked Tod, 
trying to assume an injured air. 

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me. What do 
you think of it?” 

“I think it was some fishermen or hunters 
who landed there a minute on some errand or 
other.” 

“But why were they so quiet about it?” 

“Just a coincidence; probably tired or didn’t 
feel like talking. The middle of the night isn’t 


200 .YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


conducive to much conversation, as we know.’’ 

‘‘Maybe you’re right. I was restless and 
nervous enough that night to see anything. ’ ’ 

“Why didn’t you tell Dutch John and Eoper, 
and compare notes 1 ’ ’ 

“Oh, I didn’t more than half think it amounted 
to anything, so I let it drop and forgot it.” 

“Just as well,” Tod said, as he finished his 
breakfast. 


CHAPTER XIV 


TRAPPING 

^ ^ T T strikes me, ’ ’ Tod remarked, as Ke was 
I putting their cabin in order, ‘4t’s late 
J. enough in the season to set our traps.” 

‘‘Yes, iVe been thinking of it for several 
days,” Beam agreed, “and I don’t know hut we 
might as well start in to-day. How many traps 
did we bring?” 

“Eighteen, if I remember right. They’re in 
that old box in the corner, with the other junk.” 

“Let’s get them out and see what we have.” 

“All right. We might as well be setting our 
traps as anything else. We’ve got to put in the 
time at something,” with which philosophic re- 
mark Tod followed his partner into the shanty. 

Beam soon unearthed the traps and piled them 
out on the floor, while Tod sorted and counted 
them. 

“A dozen No. I’s and six No. O’s,” the latter 
commented as he surveyed the assortment, “and 
they all seem to be healthy and ready for busi- 
ness. I like those little 0 traps,” he continued, 
picking one up, “they’re so easy and handy to 
set.” He held the trap out in his hand and 
gripped the spring with his fingers. 

201 


202 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAJMP 


^^Can you do it, son?’’ queried Beam, with a 
cynical grin. 

course I can.” Tod compressed the 
spring with the grip of his right hand until the 
jaws dropped, and then with the other hand he 
deftly lifted the pan and set the trigger. 

‘‘Quite a muscular chap, for a small boy. 
.Wonder if I can do it.” 

Tod snapped the trigger and handed the trap 
to Beam. 

“Don’t know whether my grip muscles have 
got back their old strength or not. If they 
haven’t, they will by spring.” Taking the trap 
he duplicated Tod’s feat, although it took every 
ounce of his strength to do it. 

“You’re coming on all right, partner. I 
didn’t think you could do it,” cried Tod heartily, 
slapping Beam on the shoulder. 

“I was dubious about it, myself,” confessed 
Beam, throwing the trap on the floor; “but wait 
till I row about a thousand miles,” and he 
doubled his arm and felt of the biceps muscles. 

“And walk another thousand,” commented 
Tod. 

“Yes, easy. I’ll walk that distance in run- 
ning the traps this winter. ’ ’ 

“Well, let’s get a move on us and set them 
to-day,” said Tod briskly. “I think we had bet- 
ter go over on the Illinois side and set most of 
them on rat houses.” 

“I suppose so. Muskrats will be our main 


TRAPPING 


203 


catch, with a sprinkling of mink, coon, and per- 
haps a skunk now and then.’’ 

‘^Better take the guns and a lunch,” suggested 
Tod; ‘‘no telling when we’ll get back.” 

“Of course. We might need the guns to shoot 
something for bait.” 

“Come on, then, let’s he off. I’ll take the 
traps down to the boat and you fix up a lunch.” 

“I guess a couple of slices of bread and butter 
and jam will be all we’ll need on this trip,” said 
Beam, as Tod gathered up the traps. 

“Yes, that’s enough. Might put an apple or 
two in our pockets, though,” added Tod, as he 
went out with the traps. 

In a few minutes everything was ready and in 
the boat. 

“I’ll row across,” Beam said. “I want the 
exercise.” 

“All right, me Lud. You have my permis- 
sion.” So Tod climbed into the stern seat, and 
Beam took his seat at the oars. 

“It won’t be long before we’ll have to walk 
across the old creek to run our traps,” Tod ob- 
served, as Beam rapidly lessened the distance to 
the Illinois shore. 

“No, it won’t be long now. Although it de- 
pends somewhat on the kind of winter we have.” 

“Had we better go down to Mink Lake?” Tod 
asked, as the boat grated on the shore. 

“No, I rather think we had better try Goose 
Lake first. There are more rat houses that we 


204 [YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


can reacli with onr hip boots, as the water is 
shallow around the shores, and we have no boat 
over here, you know. Later on, when it freezes 
up, we can reach all of them.’’ 

^‘That’s so,” admitted Tod as they climbed 
out, forgot Goose Lake.” 

‘^Keep your eye out for mink holes,” Beam 
said, as they started through the woods. 

‘‘We might set a few of the traps along the 
bank of Pin Oak Run,” Tod suggested, ducking 
under a limb. “We might pick up a mink or two 
that way.” 

“We’ll see what the show is for rats around 
Goose Lake first,” Beam answered. “Rats are 
a sure thing, and mink ain’t.” 

“I know. But a mink counts when you do get 
one,” was Tod’s wise rejoinder. 

They were half-way to the lake and walking 
along the bank of a little dry swale, when Tod 
suddenly cried : 

“Look yonder!” 

“What is it?” Beam asked, looking around 
sharply. 

“A mink, sure as shooting,” and Tod dashed 
ahead, the traps jingling as he ran. 

Beam hurried after, and thirty yards ahead 
caught up with him standing by the root of an 
old tree. 

“Are you sure it was a mink?” Beam inquired 
anxiously. 

“Of course I am,” Tod replied triumphantly. 


TRAPPING 


205 


was making for this hole, and he’s in here 
right now.” 

^^Good enough. I’ll show you how to set a 
trap for mink, according to Hoyle,” Beam said 
with a superior air, setting his gun against a 
tree. 

^^Go ahead and let’s see some of your fine 
work.” 

Beam selected a spot just outside the mouth of 
the hole and scooped a small shallow depression 
with his hands. Then he took one of the small 
^‘0” traps, and setting it, placed it in the depres- 
sion so the jaws were just level with the ground. 

‘^Cut a stake,” he ordered. You’ve got the 
hatchet.” 

In a few minutes Tod returned with the stake 
and Beam put it through the ring of the trap, 
driving it in the ground the length of the chain 
to one side of the runway. Then he deftly cov- 
ered the chain with leaves, twigs, etc., so that it 
resembled the surroundings and would not at- 
tract attention. Next the trap was lightly cov- 
ered with fine dry earth, and the space under the 
pan was made clear and free from dirt, so that 
the pan could drop when stepped on. Then he 
stood otf and surveyed his work. 

‘‘Everything proper, now!” asked Tod. 

Beam shook his head. 

“Not yet, my child. And I can’t finish it the 
way I want to until we come back. I’ll just put 
this on temporarily, in case minky should come 


206 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

out while we’re gone. While we’re at the lake, 
we must shoot a mud-hen or a ‘poke’ or some- 
thing else that wears feathers, and when we come 
back this way, we’ll make it look like a poultry 
yard around here.” 

As Beam talked, he pulled a duck’s head from 
the game pocket of his hunting coat, and sharp- 
ening a stick at both ends, he impaled the duck’s 
head on one end and pushed the other end in the 
sloping bank, so that, at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, the bait was about eighteen inches above 
the carefully-concealed trap. 

“There, I think that will do for the present. 
Let’s get over and see how many muskrat runs 
we can reach by wading.” 

“S’pose he’ll come out before we get back? ” 
wondered Tod as they journeyed on. 

“I hardly think so. But you can’t tell what 
the little rascals will do. It depends somewhat 
on how frightened they are when they run in or 
how attractive the inside of the hole is. ’ ’ 

They reached the lake without further ado, 
and Beam said, as they eased down their load : 

“Here’s one rat house close to the edge. No 
trouble to reach that.” 

The furry little builders had cut down a circle 
of reeds several rods in diameter to furnish ma- 
terial for their winter home. And this partic- 
ular family had built so near shore that there 
was barely water enough to fill their runs, and 


TRAPPING 207 

mucli of the ground was exposed around the 
house. 

be setting the traps and you take your 
gnn and pick up a mud-hen or duck or some- 
thing for bait, ’ ’ said Beam, picking up a trap. 

^‘That ought to be easy to do around here,’’ 
replied Tod, taking his gun and sauntering down 
the lake. 

The water being shallow. Beam set the trap 
in the run at the edge of the dome-shaped pile of 
rushes, in about six inches of water. Then he 
slowly walked up the hank to the north, looking 
for more runs and houses. He found several 
houses along the shore, where the water was shal- 
low, and easily reached with hip boots. When 
near the north end he heard two shots on the 
opposite side of the lake, and surmised that Tod 
was getting busy. He was just wading out to 
a rat house with a trap in his hand, when, to his 
great chagrin, a pair of mallards hopped up not 
twenty-five yards away and with quacks of deri- 
sion at his helplessness went sailing leisurely 
down the lake. It was no use kicking. His gun 
was up on the bank, and he could only think 
what he would have done if they had jumped up 
a moment sooner. 

He had gotten around to the other side of the 
lake before he met Tod. 

^‘What did you fiLnd? I heard your old gun 
bark a couple of times.” 


208 lYOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


mud-lien and a mallard,’’ Tod replied, set- 
ting down his gun. ‘‘How many traps did you 
setr’ 

“Eight, so far. Are there many houses near 
shore, down this side?” 

“I noticed quite a number. But the main 
bunch we can’t reach till it freezes up.” Tod 
was casting longing eyes at the numbers of 
muskrat houses out in the deeper water. 

“Never mind. They’ll keep. Did you have 
any trouble wading across the run at the south 
end?” 

“No, it’s only about knee deep.” 

“Here, take my gun. You’ve been up this 
side, so there won’t be anything to shoot. The 
traps are enough for me to carry,” said Beam, 
handing over his gun. 

They found places for six more traps around 
the lake and then started back through the tim- 
ber. 

“Isn’t it getting about lunch time?” Tod in- 
quired anxiously. 

‘ ‘ I don ’t know. Hadn ’t thought of it, ’ ’ replied 
Beam absently, taking out his watch. “Yes, it’s 
a quarter after eleven. We’ll just have time to 
go over and put the finishing touches on my mink 
trap.” 

“I doubt if you get him. He may be out and 
gone by this time, ’ ’ said Tom skeptically, taking 
a hasty survey about him. 


TRAPPING 


209 


‘‘Yes, and then again he may not. Yon chased 
him into that hole, and the chances are he will 
stay there awhile* ’ ’ 

They soon reached the spot and found the bait 
and everything as they left it. 

“Don^t make any more tracks around the hole 
than you have to and I’ll fix things in a min- 
ute,” said Beam in a low tone. “I’ll cover the 
trap and chain with mallard feathers and tempt 
him with a fresh head.” 

“All right. Go ahead, and I’ll take a seat in 
the parquet,” replied Tod, walking over to an old 
log a short distance away. 

Beam plucked some feathers from the mallard 
and nicely covered the trap and chain. Then he 
sprinkled a few more feathers around the mouth 
of the hole in a haphazard way. Lastly, he cut 
off the mallard’s head and put it on the stick in 
place of the old one. 

‘ ‘ There, I think that will do, ’ ’ he said, survey- 
ing his work with a satisfied air. “If Mr. Mink 
don’t get caught it won’t be our fault.” 

“Come on, then, and let’s eat our lunch. I’m 
hungry,” called Tod. 

“We’d better get a little farther away from 
the hole,” warned Beam, walking over to where 
Tod sat. 

“Just as you say.” 

Forty rods down in the timber, Tod dropped on 
a convenient log. 


210 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^He canT smell us here. I’m going to chew,’’ 
and half a minute later he was cutting crescents 
in a slice of bread and butter and jam. 

‘ ‘ Let ’s see. e have three more traps to set, ’ ’ 
mused Beam, as they ate. ‘‘I suppose we may 
as well set these along Pin Oak Run, as you 
suggested. "We might pick up a mink or coon.” 

‘‘Yes, so long as there aren’t any more rat 
houses handy, I think that’s the best scheme.” 

“Wish now I had brought another dozen 
traps,” said Beam reflectively. “These are all 
the old ones I could find in the barn. A couple 
of years ago, you know, I trapped most all the 
fall and winter, running the traps mornings and 
evenings and Saturdays.” 

“Yes, I remember you did. Did you get any 
mink then?” asked Tod, vigorously assaulting 
his last slice of bread and butter. 

“Two or three. Old Jim Barney told me how 
to circumvent them. By the way, did I ever tell 
you my first experience in setting a trap for 
muskrats?” 

“No, what was it?” 

Beam chuckled at the remembrance. 

“I was about twelve years old then. A family 
of rats built a couple of houses in that little swale 
down back of the house that fall. I was skat- 
ing around there one day all by myself, when 
it suddenly occurred to me that there was an old 
trap in the barn and I might catch a muskrat. 
I got the trap and went back to the pond and 


TRAPPING 


211 


began to figure on bow to set it. I bad never 
seen a trap set for rats, but down one side of 
tbe biggest bouse was a long slide, wbicb seemed 
to me tbeir place to slide down bill. I couldn’t 
quite figure bow they got out from under tbe 
ice to do tbe slide act, but they must do it, for 
there was tbe slide and it bad been used. After 
scratching my bead over it for a while I finally 
decided they must have some mysterious way of 
performing tbe feat, and set my trap about half- 
way down tbe slide. I staked her down good and 
strong and went home, feeling sure I would have 
a muskrat next morning. Think of it,” and 
Beam chuckled again. 

‘‘Bright boy,” murmured Tod. 

‘ ‘ Queer it never occurred to me that muskrats 
did tbeir sliding down bill in the fall before it 
froze up. But that idea never entered my 
bead.” 

“How long did you let it set there, before 
you took a tumble?” queried Tod; “all win- 
ter?” 

“No, that’s where tbe joke comes in,” laughed 
Beam. “When I went down next morning to 
see what I bad caught, I found that somebody 
bad pulled out tbe stake and taken tbe trap.” 

“Probably somebody came along who thought 
anyone, fool enough to set a trap half-way down 
a muskrat slide in tbe middle of tbe winter, 
hadn’t ought to be trusted with a trap.” 

“I don’t know what they thought, but I know 


212 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


I never got my trap back. The next year I got 
acquainted with old Jim Barney, and he let me 
go round with him sometimes to run his traps. 
The most I know about trapping I got from 
him. ’ ’ 

‘‘A queer old chap, Jim was. I wonder what 
became of him.^^ 

‘‘I don’t know. He went north on a trapping 
expedition, over a year ago, and I have never 
heard from him since. One of the best hearted 
souls that ever lived,” Beam added, ^‘but he was 
called shiftless and lazy because he would sooner 
trap and hunt than work. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, I guess they sized him up about right.” 
Tod had by this time finished his last bit of 
bread and jam, which he must have thoroughly 
enjoyed, judging from the way he smacked his 
lips. 

“Say, I don’t believe I ever knew how good 
bread and butter and jam tastes,” he said. 

“Anything tastes good out in the woods,” 
said Beam sagely. “Now we’ll go and set the 
rest of these traps and then go home; come on.” 

“I hate to stir around much, right after such 
a hearty meal.” With this facetious remark. 
Tod shouldered his gun and followed Beam. 

It was only a short distance to the little run 
and they were soon there. 

“I suppose it’s all right to set them an3nvhere 
along the bank near the water?” said Tod, as 
they stood surveying the shallow little rivulet. 


TRAPPING 


213 


“Better put tliem under an old log or an over- 
hanging bank or some such protected place/’ re- 
plied Beam contemplatively. 

A short distance down the stream they found 
an ideal spot under a shelving hank near the 
water and here Beam set one of the traps al- 
most exactly as he had the first one. The other 
two were set about forty rods apart, farther 
down the stream, and then they started for 
camp. 

“We’re just as likely to get a coon in these 
three traps as we are a mink,” said Tod as they 
left the stream. 

“I’m not very sanguine on either. It depends 
somewhat on how plentiful they are. I’ll bring 
over some dope to-morrow and fix these traps 
for coon.” 

“What kind of dope have you got?” asked 
Tod. 

“Oh, it’s something old man Barney gave me 
before he went north. It’s in a little bit of a 
bottle the size of your little finger. Some kind 
of an oil — oil of anise, I believe — and I don’t 
know what else. You just rub a drop on the 
under side of the pan when you set the trap, and 
Barney said the first coon that came along would 
stick his paws in the trap feeling for the bait.” 

“Gee, if it works that way, we ought to get 
a lot of coon if they’re in the woods,” cried 
Tod excitedly. “Why didn’t you bring it 
along?” 


214 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^Forgot I had it till I was setting the last 
trap. Then I remembered that I packed it np 
and brought it along. I’ll bring it over to-mor- 
row when we rnn the traps.” 

‘‘I hope it works, don’t yon?” Tod’s eyes 
were fairly glistening at the thoughts of a big 
pile of coon skins. 

‘^Of course I do. But we won’t build any air 
castles till we see how it works. It may be like 
lots of other sure things — nothing but a fake.” 

^^But Barney wouldn’t lie about it,” protested 
Tod. 

‘‘I know he wouldn’t; but he might get fooled. 
He didn’t say whether he had ever caught any 
coon with it or not. Just said that was the way 
it worked. He might have got it from some 
fakir. However, we’ll know after we try it,” 
said Beam philosophically. 

They were about half-way to the boat and 
walking quietly through the woods, when Beam 
suddenly stopped. He stared up into a tree a 
moment and then said in a half whisper : 

‘‘Well, I’ll be switched!” 

“What is it?” whispered Tod, all attention in 
a moment. 

Beam pointed up into a tree ahead and said 
quietly : 

“Look up there.” 

Tod looked in the direction indicated and, 
after a moment, whispered : 


TRAPPING 


215 


“Well, wouldn’t that heat you!” 

The cause of their astonishment was apparent. 
High up in the crotch of an oak tree, just ahead, 
sat a big coon. He was looking over toward 
the Iowa blutfs and his back was partly toward 
them. Evidently he had not heard their ap- 
proach. There he sat quietly taking his after- 
noon siesta, oblivious to the nearness of his 
hereditary foe. It was a picture for an artist. 

“Can you reach him from here?” whispered 
Tod. 

“I don’t know. It’s a pretty long shot and 
my shells are loaded with number sixes. May- 
be I can get a few steps nearer before he hears 
us.” 

Beam slipped the safety on his gun and, softly 
as a panther, stole forward, while Tod stood like 
a statue watching the performance. 

He saw Beam diminish the distance step by 
step until he was in fair range. Suddenly he 
saw the coon turn its head this way and that in 
an uneasy manner. Evidently it scented dan- 
ger. 

Tod was on nettles in an instant. “Why 
don’t he shoot?” he whispered to himself. 
Then he saw Beam quietly raise the gun to his 
shoulder and, a second later, a sharp report rang 
out. It was a lucky shot. The coon sat motion- 
less for a second, then the head dropped for- 
ward and an instant later the big fellow came 


216 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAIVIP 


whirling down and struck the ground with a 
thump. The close-shooting choke bore had done 
its work. 

“Good shot!’’ cried Tod, jumping up and 
down in sheer delight; adding triumphantly, as 
he picked up the quarry, “Our first pelt. We’ll 
ornament the outside of the shanty with his epi- 
dermis. ’ ’ 

Beam walked up and sized up the coon with a 
satisfied look. 

“ ‘Ornament’ is good, but don’t you think 
‘decorate’ sounds better?” 

“Perhaps it’s a ‘more tenderer word,’ Sam- 
my,” said Tod with a droll look, as they started 
on. 

Upon reaching camp the coon was skinned 
and its pelt soon “decorated” one side of the 
cabin. 

The next morning, eager to know their first 
catch, the boys hurried across the river soon 
after breakfast. Beam taking the “dope” with 
him. 

The traps along the run were found undis- 
turbed, hut, to Beam’s great satisfaction, a mink 
was in the trap by the hole. Then they hurried 
over to Goose Lake, where eight muskrats were 
taken from the traps. These traps were reset 
and they returned to camp. 

The remainder of the day was spent in skin- 
ning, fieshing, and stretching the pelts. Tod 
was eager to know if the “coon dope” worked, 


TRAPPING 


217 


so the next morning he hurried through with the 
breakfast and headed the procession for the 
landing. Beam warned him not to put too much 
confidence in the stuff, even if it did come from 
Barney. But as they approached Pin Oak Run, 
Tod could not conceal his impatience. He tip- 
toed to the top of the bank near the first trap and 
peered over. 

A second later, he let out a war whoop and 
fairly yelled : 

‘Ht worked! We got a coon! We got a 
coon!’’ And down over the bank he went like 
a shot. When Beam reached the spot. Tod had 
the coon vanquished and out of the trap. 

‘Ht worked, all right,” he cried, panting from 
his run and shuffling about gleefully. 

Looks that way,” admitted Beam quietly, 
but with an inward feeling of satisfaction. 

^‘Wonder if we’ve got a coon in every trapP’ 
Tod picked up the coon and started on, impa- 
tient to know. 

‘‘Hardly,” replied Beam briefly, following 
more leisurely. 

To Tod’s disappointment all the other traps 
were undisturbed except the muskrat traps. 
They took out six rats and returned to camp. 

During the days and weeks that followed. Tod’s 
visions of a big coon catch received a severe 
jolt. They didn’t catch another coon for three 
weeks and then only one was picked up. An- 
other long interval of “coonless” days followed. 


218 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


until Tod’s faith in the ‘^dope” was materially 
lessened. 

But the muskrat catch was fairly steady, and 
occasionally a mink was gathered in. Of course, 
they frequently changed the location of the 
traps. They aimed to run them every day, un- 
less off on a hunting jaunt or preparing the 
camp for winter. When the ice formed a bridge 
over the Mississippi, they made the entire cir- 
cuit of the traps on foot, and the long walks in 
the crisp air did Beam a world of good. 

It was their intention to keep the traps out all 
winter until the breaking up of the river, in or- 
der that when spring came they might have a 
collection of fur large enough to aid materially 
in paying the expenses of their long outing. 


CHAPTEE XV 


A SKOWSTOEM AND WHAT IT BBOIJGHT 

T he short days glided swiftly by. The 
boys were busy at something most of the 
time. When the weather was exces- 
sively cold, or very boisterous and stormy, they 
stayed in the cabin and played checkers, chess, 
or read from well-worn books. 

On the tenth of January the temperature went 
to twelve below zero for the first time, yet they 
slept in the tent, warm and snug under a pile of 
blankets. Dr. Hall had sent down a thermom- 
eter with the request that they take a record 
every day in a little book — a duty that Beam 
faithfully performed. 

The boys were not the least bit lonely or home- 
sick. Of course, they had both loved the woods 
from childhood, and that helped them wonder- 
fully. 

In the middle of January occurred a wild 
storm. Like all great snowstorms, it came on 
slowly and methodically. It came up so slowly, 
in fact, that the boys paid little attention to it; 
for several hours, at least. First there was a 
gradual decrease in the brightness of the sun. 
Then a light haze crept up. This was followed 
219 


220 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


by a darkening of the horizon in the north. A 
little later, the wind began to moan softly 
through the trees. A sort of weird, uncanny 
feeling was in the air as the darkening increased. 
Then the boys began to ^‘sit up and take notice.’’ 

It was along in the middle of the afternoon, 
now. They walked out to the river bank, and 
Beam, after taking a survey of the heavens, 
shook his head and remarked: 

don’t like the looks of things. It has the 
earmarks of an old-fashioned northeaster. ’ ’ 

‘‘It has, for a fact. I hadn’t paid any atten- 
tion to it before. It’s getting black up north 
as a thunder-cloud. I’ll get a big pile of wood 
in the cabin to-night, so if we get snowed in, 
we won’t freeze.” 

“Yes, it’s well to provide for an emergency. 
One can’t tell what a storm like this will do, and 
we can make ourselves comfortable at least.” 

“Suppose you dare sleep in the tent to-night?” 

“Oh, I guess so. We can tell better by eight 
or nine o ’clock. ’ ’ 

“I’ll go and get the wood in right now,” said 
Tod, starting for the wood-pile. A moment later 
he was cheerfully whistling over his task. 

About five o’clock a few feathery flakes made 
their appearance. These gradually increased 
until by the time night had closed in, a raging, 
driving snowstorm was in progress. 

The cabin, sheltered by the trees and dense 
underbrush, was not affected much by the wind. 


A SNOWSTORM 


221 


and the snow sifted down softly as bits of cotton. 
But down the wide river, the wind had a fair 
sweep, and there the storm was a howling 
demon. It shrieked and roared, driving the 
snow before it like chaff. 

The boys walked out to the river bank once, 
but they did not remain long. 

‘^Excuse me,’^ shouted Tod, taking a run for 
shelter, “I don’t want any of that pie. I pre- 
fer the cabin.” 

‘‘You seem to be pretty wise this evening,” 
called Beam, racing after him. 

“I pity anybody who has to be out in this to- 
night, ’ ’ Tod said with a shiver, when they were 
in by the fire. 

‘ ‘ This isn ’t bad. I ’d rather enjoy it, ’ ’ replied 
Beam, who was of a more adventurous nature. 

“It might be all right for a little while, but 
after this driving snow cut your face for an hour 
or so, you’d sing a different tune; eh, Nibs? 
Wake up and give us your opinion!” 

Nibs raised his tail and struck the floor two or 
three resounding thumps, but still remained 
stretched out on his side; he didn’t even raise 
his head. Nibs was getting lazy and fat. 

“Is it chess or checkers this evening?” Tod 
asked as he put more wood in the stove. 

“Chess. I want to see if I can’t get the right 
combination on that Evans gambit.” 

Fifteen minutes later they were deep in the 
mysteries of chess, while Nibs slept on, dreaming 


222 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


possibly of snipe and ducks and the fall hunt. 

Outside the storm roared on, and the snow 
whirled and eddied. But inside the little cabin 
all was peace and warmth. Chess is not a talk- 
ative game, and sometimes for half an hour not 
a word was spoken. 

It was along toward nine o’clock, for one for- 
gets the lapse of time in that game. 

Check,” Tod called with a note of triumph. 

^^Hm! That looks a little bilious,” his ad- 
versary admitted, surveying the situation with 
dubious thoughtfulness. 

Tod leaned back and yawned. 

‘^Listen to that wind out on the river, will 
you. ’ ’ 

^‘Yes. Quite a wind,” Beam answered ab- 
stractedly, as he studied the situation. 

Tod laughed. He knew Beam hadn’t heard 
the wind for some time. 

‘‘It will bother you to get out of that, without 
losing your queen.” 

Ere Beam could answer. Nibs raised his head 
and growled. Following the growl came heavy 
raps on the door. 

The boys sprang up, and Tod hastily put away 
the chess-board while Beam answered the rap. 

As he opened the door, a man staggered in 
and fell on the threshold. 

Nibs leaped up barking and growling, and 
started toward the stranger. 


A SNOWSTORM 


223 


back and lie down,’’ called Beam, em- 
phasizing his commands with a gentle kick. 

Nibs obeyed unwillingly, growling under his 
breath. 

^^Help get this man inside, Tod. It’s evi- 
dently somebody the storm has done up.” 

^ ^ I can get up alone, ’ ’ said the stranger, stag- 
gering to his feet and looking around in a dazed 
way. 

Beam suppressed an exclamation of astonish- 
ment. It was the man with the scar on his cheek 
who had given him the warning some weeks 
before. 

Although brave as a lion and not the least bit 
superstitious. Beam shivered a little in spite of 
himself. That the wild storm and the uncanny 
stranger should come at the same time, seemed 
a queer coincidence. Then he shook himself to 
rights, and was his old cool self again. 

‘^Have a stool by the fire,” said Tod hos- 
pitably. 

Thank you. I’ve been out in this storm ever 
since it started, and I’m about played out,” and 
the man sat down heavily. 

^^Bad night to be out,” said Tod civilly. 

^‘Yes, and I’ve been around this island twice 
since dark. The last trip I was about played 
out when I saw your light, ’ ’ replied the stranger, 
spreading his hands before the stove as though 
he had made no unusual statement. 


224 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Beam and Tod gave eacH other a hasty glance, 
but said nothing. 

Nibs lay upon the floor, his nose between 
his paws, and one eye canted up toward the 
strange man suspiciously. 

Suddenly the latter said: 

feel sick and dizzy. May I lie upon the 
floor?’’ 

“Certainly. Lie on this bit of rug by the 
stove. It’s the best we have here,” and Beam 
sprang to assist him. 

“I’ll go out in the tent and get a pillow. We 
have an extra one,” said Tod, bolting out into 
the storm. When he returned. Beam had the 
man down on the rug, and Tod slipped the pil- 
low under his head. 

“Do you want anything?” Beam asked kindly. 

“Got any whiskey?” 

“We have a little bottle that we always keep 
for just such emergencies as this,” said Tod, 
going to a shelf in the corner where reposed 
numerous vials of various sizes, and taking down 
an eight-ounce bottle, two-thirds full. 

The stranger raised his head, took two or three 
large swallows, and sank back upon the pillow 
with closed eyes. 

Beam laid a hand on his forehead. 

“He has a high fever, Tod.” 

“What in the world can we do? We haven’t 
a thing to give him.” 

“I don’t see anything we can do now. Ho 


A SNOWSTORM 


225 


ought to have a doctor, of course, but we never 
could find our way in this storm.’’ 

Tod went over to the shelf again. 

‘‘Here’s cough syrup and olive oil and cascara 
and ammonia, and a few other things, but no 
fever medicine.” 

“The fever may be just temporary from ex- 
posure,” said Beam; then in a low tone, “he 
seems to be asleep.” 

For nearly an hour the boys sat there in si- 
lence, Tod occasionally replenishing the fire. 
Their strange charge remained quiet, apparently 
in a deep sleep. Presently he began to grow 
restless and babble unintelligibly for the most 
part. Sometimes the watchers caught a word or 
part of a sentence. Presently they made out 
from his incoherent talk: “Won’t trust me; 
nice way to treat a pal; I’ll get even with you 
fellows.” Then his voice sank and he fell to 
mumbling to himself again. 

Beam and Tod again exchanged glances. 
This was growing interesting, and both boys 
strained their ears to catch any further words 
that would enlighten them as to the man’s 
identity. But he sank into a stupor and breathed 
heavily. 

Outside, the storm continued to rage with un- 
abated fury. Inside, two sorely perplexed boys 
sat and watched and wondered what to do. 

Suddenly the stranger sat up and glared 
around. 


226 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


may just as well get even with you fellows 
right here/^ and with these words, he pulled a 
big revolver and pointed it at Tod. The latter 
owed his life to the fact that Beam was quick- 
witted and supple. 

Like a flash he sprang forward and struck up 
the revolver, and a bullet whizzed over Tod’s 
head and buried itself in the logs above. Be- 
fore it could be fired again. Beam seized the gun 
and wrenched it from his grasp. 

‘‘Oh, ho ! that’s your game,” the man cried an- 
grily, and another revolver flashed out. 

It was a case of prompt action or death, and 
both boys hurled themselves upon the deranged 
man, forced him to the floor and held him there 
with a grip of steel. He writhed and twisted 
in his efforts to get free and reach his gun, but 
in vain. Lucky for Beam, he had about re- 
covered his old-time strength. 

After a few moments’ struggling, the stranger 
quieted down again. But the boys did not relax 
their hold or their vigilance. Not knowing what 
shape his vagary might take next, every nerve 
and muscle was strung to the highest tension. 

But he seemed to have exhausted himself with 
that one wild etfort. His head dropped upon 
the pillow and he breathed heavily again. The 
boys felt cautiously around his body for more 
weapons, but none were found. The two re- 
volvers were put out of his reach, but they con- 
tinued to watch him narrowly. For fifteen 


A SNOWSTORM 


227 


minutes he remained in the same state, then 
suddenly his breath came in quick spasmodic 
gasps; the hands clenched tightly and the head 
was thrown back. Then a rattling gasp and a 
gurgle, and he was still. 

‘‘Is he deadr’ whispered Tod in an awed 
voice. 

“Yes, he has shot his last man,’’ said Beam 
quietly, rising to his feet. 

“What do you think about it?” Tod asked as 
he put more wood on the fire, and softly stroked 
Nibs, whose bristles were still raised. For the 
old dog at the beginning of the struggle had 
sprung forward to help, growling and barking, 
but was sternly ordered back by his master, who 
knew he would only he in the way. 

“I think he is some fellow who has belonged 
to a hand of cutthroats, but got off in the upper 
story, and was let out of the band and ignored 
by his former pals.” 

“That seems a reasonable explanation, from 
the way he talked and acted,” said Tod thought- 
fully, then he shivered; “I don’t want any more 
experiences like that, right away.” 

“No, nor I, either,” said Beam, glancing down 
at the cold, ashen face and the slowly stiffening 
form, “poor fellow, he may he more to be pitied 
than blamed,” and then respectfully covered the 
form with a blanket. 

Slowly the hours dragged by. Shortly before 
daylight Tod put the coffee pot on the stove. 


228 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


During the long vigil they had arranged for Tod 
to go up the bluff to Mr. Meister’s and get him 
to take the body to town where, of course, an 
inquest would be held. 

The storm had continued all during the night, 
but about daylight the snow ceased to fall, and 
although the wind was still blowing, it was not 
so wild and boisterous. 

The dead man was moved away from the stove 
to the further corner of the room, and Tod, after 
refreshing himself with hot coffee, prepared for 
his journey. 

“I don’t know how badly the bluff road is 
drifted,” said Beam, ‘‘but I guess you can get 
up it afoot. It’s a question whether John can 
get down it with a team or not. ’ ’ 

“If he can’t, we’ll have to carry the body to 
the top of the bluff on a litter.” 

“Don’t say anything to him about what this 
man said.” 

Tod nodded and started through the soft snow 
in his rubber hip boots. 

It was an hour and a half before he returned. 
Then to Beam’s great relief he saw him coming 
through the woods accompanied by “Dutch” 
John and two other men. 

“Yell, veil, Peamy. I hear you haf bad tings 
happen,” and the honest old farmer grasped 
Beam’s hand, as he stamped the snow from his 
heavy boots. 

“Yes, rather a sad catastrophe. Good mom- 


A SNOWSTORM 


229 


ing, Mr. Roper. Good morning, Mr. Jordan. 
Come in and get warm.’^ 

it not cold yet.’’ Then John dropped 
his voice : ‘‘We not get down mit de team, so we 
bring boards.” 

“That will have to do, then. Can you get to 
town with the team!” 

“I think so,” spoke up Mr. Jordan, “it’s a 
north and south road and won’t be drifted so 
bad.” 

“Tod, I suppose you’ll have to go with them, 
to tell the authorities how it happened. See 
father and tell him the whole thing, and I guess 
they will let you come back with John.” 

“ Yes, I ’d better go. I ’ll get back to-day some- 
how, if I have to walk.” 

“You no valk. You ride mit me,” said Mr. 
Meister earnestly. 

A little later, and all that was mortal of the 
stranger was carefully placed upon a litter and 
home through the woods upon the shoulders of 
the four men. 

Beam breathed a sigh of relief when they had 
gone. It was not very cheerful, living in one 
room with a strange corpse. Small wonder he 
felt relieved. 

He cooked himself some breakfast and then 
swept and aired out the cabin. Then he went 
out and made a path to the river bank. 

The sun was peeping out through the clouds, 
showing that the storm was over. There was 


230 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

at least a foot of snow in the timber, where it 
had fallen straight down instead of drifting. 

About eight o’clock Beam began to get 
drowsy. He brought blankets in from the tent, 
made a bed on the floor and was soon in a deep 
sleep. 


CHAPTEE XVI 


A COON HUNT 

I T was afternoon when Beam awoke. Yawn- 
ing and stretching, he folded up the 
blankets, muttering: 

‘ ‘ Tod will be in luck if he gets back to-night, I 
suppose.^’ 

He stirred up the fire, ate a lunch and sat 
down to read. Gradually the wind subsided, the 
clouds rolled away, and by the middle of the 
afternoon the sun was shining brightly. 

About half-past four Beam began to prepare 
supper, saying half aloud: 

^Hdl cook enough for Tod, anyhow. He will 
get back if they don’t hold him on the inquest.” 

But the time passed and no Tod appeared. 
In due time, supper was cooked and ready to be 
eaten. Beam was about to step out for a final 
look, when he heard a vigorous stamping outside 
and a moment later his partner opened the door, 
letting in a whiff of fresh, cold air. 

His chubby cheeks were rosy from the ride in 
the bracing wintry air. Catching sight of the 
steaming food, he called out cheerily : 

‘^Got supper all ready; that’s the stuff. I’m 
ravenously hungry.” 


231 


232 yOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I didn’t more than half think you’d get back. 
But I knew it wouldn’t spoil, this weather, so 
I cooked enough to fill you up if you did come.” 

‘VThe coroner kindly hurried things, so as to 
let me get away.” 

‘‘What was the verdict?” asked Beam as he 
placed the supper on the table. 

“Death from exposure and alcoholism.” 

“What in the world? Why, he wasn’t 
drunk,” and Beam paused in astonishment, al- 
most forgetting to pour the coffee. 

“Don’t ask me. I was only too glad to get 
away soon as possible,” said Tod, breaking open 
a big, mealy potato. 

“Did you see the folks?” 

“Yes, your mother was greatly upset over the 
affair and, of course, I didn’t tell her all either. 
She insisted that your father bring you right 
back home, but he said you must learn to rough 
it and take chances, same as other men. Not 
much coddling, with Pa Foster,” and Tod’s eyes 
twinkled. 

“No, he was never given to petting, or senti- 
ment. He has been through a rough, hard 
school himself, and he expects the same of others. 
But he was always just and kind, I will say that 
for him,” said Beam warmly. 

“He’s right, on the question here. As Doc 
Hall said, such a thing might not happen again 
in a lifetime.” 

“Of course not. That fellow was just some 


A COON HUNT 233 

freak that dropped in here. Have some more 
coffee.’^ 

Don’t care if I do. Dutch John’s brand of 
driving makes a fellow hungry,” said Tod, 
holding out his cup. ‘^And by the way,” he 
continued, ‘‘Tom and Jim are coming down here 
for a coon hunt, just as soon as the snow packs 
down a little.” 

“That’s pleasant. I thought the boys would 
be down pretty soon.” 

“They’ll bring two dogs, Jim’s old dog 
‘Scraps’, and Bluer ’s coon hound.” 

“They can’t come any too soon to suit us. 
Were the roads drifted much?” 

“Only in two or three places; lots of snow, 
though. We had to break a road, going up.” 

“It’s going to be good and nippy to-night,” 
Beam remarked, draining the coffee pot. 

“Shall we try the tent?” 

“Of course! Why not? We have plenty of 
blankets.” 

“All right; I can stand it if you can. It’s 
according to Doc Hall’s orders, anyhow, if we 
do freeze; just slice off another piece of that 
boiled ham, for a top dressing.” 

“We won’t freeze. Say, aren’t you ever go- 
ing to stop eating?” 

“Give me time. I want to beat you a game 
of chess to-night, ’ ’ and Tod tackled his last piece 
of ham with as much gusto as if it were the first. 

The boys played chess until ten o’clock, then 


234 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


as Tod became so sleepy that he couldn’t tell a 
bishop from a pawn, they called the game otf 
and crawled under a world of blankets, in the 
tent. 

Next morning the temperature was 20 below, 
and they remained in the cabin most of the day. 
The wire edge was soon off of the cold wave, 
however, and at the end of a week the snow was 
well settled and a thaw set in. 

The boys were sitting outside in the mild air, 
when Tod said : 

‘^Tom and Jim are liable to show up most any 
time now. ’ ’ 

Speak of his Satanic Majesty and he always 
appears. Here comes old Scraps across through 
the woods; boys aren’t far away,” Beam replied 
with a broad smile. 

‘‘Sure as the world! Bully for them,” cried 
Tod, throwing up his hat with a whoop. 

An answering shout came from the woods on 
the west side of the island, and Tom Williams 
and Jim Neal soon came in view, leading another 
dog. By this time. Scraps had arrived and was 
having a “growlfest” with Nibs. 

Having gone through the preliminaries and 
decided that a fight wasn’t necessary, as they 
were old friends. Nibs started out ta show 
Scraps the island. 

“Hurry up!” shouted Tod. 

“Can’t make schedule time on these roads,” 
Tom called back as they picked their way 


A COON HUNT 


235 


through the brush and trees. In a few moments 
they were in camp and a general hand-shake was 
in operation. 

^‘Here’s your old Winchester your father 
sent down for you to protect yourself with 
against lions and panthers,’’ said Tom, handing 
the rifle to Beam. 

‘ ‘ Much obliged. Now bring on your lions and 
panthers. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, you’ll have to skirmish for them.” 

“How did you get here?” Tod queried. 

“Eode down from town with Dutch John, and 
then walked across.” 

“I would suggest that you fix the road be- 
tween here and John’s, too,” Jim put in as he 
dropped on a seat. 

“We’ll attend to that in the spring. How’s 
the hound?” 

“Fine as a fiddle and ready for coon,” replied 
Tom, looking down at the great tongue lolling 
out. 

‘ ‘ That sounds auspicious. Are you hungry ? ’ ’ 

“Moderately so, and I guess Jim is.” 

“Oh, he’s always fixed that way. It’s about 
lunch time, anyhow, so I’ll get a bite.” 

In fifteen minutes Tod had lunch ready and the 
four were enjoying it with the cabin door open. 

“Any coons on the island?” asked Jim as he 
speared a pickle. 

“I guess so. If there aren’t, we’ll find them 
on the main shore,” Beam replied. 


236 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘ ^ Got to have a coon to-night, somehow. ’ ’ 

‘‘You’ll get coon, if old Joblots knows enough 
to find them.” 

“If he doesn’t, we’ll read the riot act to him. 
He’s supposed to be a celebrated coon dog.” 

“Ever been out with him?” 

“Once. Bob Casey and I took him out. He 
found coon that night.” 

During the afternoon the boys loafed, visited, 
and practiced with the little target rifle. An 
early supper was disposed of, and they were 
ready for business. The dogs seemed to know 
that something unusual was on tap, for they 
galloped about and looked at their masters with 
an air of eager expectancy. 

“They know something is up,” Tom laughed 
as he noted their actions. 

“Sure. Old Joblots has been there before,” 
replied Jim. 

“The other two won’t be much use except to 
help in a scrimmage, ’ ’ Tod remarked. 

“Oh, they’ll be company,” said Tom as they 
prepared to start. ‘ ‘ Shall we try the island first 
or go over on the bottoms?” 

“Let’s go down to the foot of the island and 
then cross over to the Illinois side. Better take 
your shotgun. Tod, we might see a bear.” 

Beam closed the door and they were off. 

When they were down in the woods some dis- 
tance, Jim cast off the hound with the remark: 


A COON HUNT 237 

‘^Now, Joblots, show these country jakes what 
you can do.’’ 

The hound needed no second invitation and 
hounded away with his nose to the ground, fol- 
lowed by the other dogs. 

They tore through the woods and underbrush 
in an ecstasy of delight, but the island was drawn 
blank. The boys stumbled along through the 
gloom until the foot was reached; then Tom 
said: 

^‘Your old island is no good. Where next!” 

‘‘Over on the Illinois side. If we don’t find 
coon there. I’ll eat my hat,” and Beam led the 
way down the bank. 

“Any air-holes!” Jim asked as he stepped 
gingerly out on the ice, after whistling up the 
dogs. 

“No ! safe as a pavement. iWe’ll pull you out, 
if you fall in, anyhow,” said Tod, following 
Beam. 

In ten minutes they were across on the bottoms 
and the dogs cast off again. 

“Now you’ll hear something drop pretty 
soon,” was Tod’s prophecy as they stopped to 
rest a moment. 

“That’s what we’re here for. Hark! there’s 
Joblots giving tongue, now,” cried Jim as the 
hound’s deep bay came to their ears. 

“Just stand still a minute and see if he stops,” 
said Tom as they listened to the music. 


238 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^ ‘ He ’s stopped, all right. Come on ! ’ ’ 

Think iUs a coonU’ asked Tod, his short 
legs trying to keep up with the procession. 

^‘Tell you later, my son,’’ Jim flung back as 
he hurried on. 

‘‘We’re getting close to the seat of war. 
Have you got him, old man?” said Tom, stopping 
where the three dogs surrounded a white oak. 

The hound whined and put his paws up on the 
tree. 

“Of course the critter had to get in a tree 
with the leaves on,” Jim growled as he peered 
up in the gloom. 

Beam suggested that they build a brush fire, 
and in five minutes a snapping, crackling blaze 
threw a weird glare up against the leaves. 

“ ’T isn’t going to be very easy to climb,” 
said Tod dubiously, surveying the oak devoid of 
lower branches. 

“I’ll show you how to climb a tree.” Tom 
jerked off his coat as he spoke, and started for 
the tree. 

“Remember your failing. Tommy, and don’t 
fall,” Jim called after him, “the dogs might 
take you for the coon.” 

But Tom disdained reply and hugged the tree 
trunk. It was about fifteen feet to the first limb, 
where he could get a foothold. He had wormed 
and twisted himself almost there, when Jim 
drawled : 

“Stick your finger nails in, Tommy; stick your 


A COON HUNT 239 

toe nails in, Tommy. The ground will catch 
you if you fall.^’ 

The firelight revealed Tom’s body as he 
reached up and clutched the lowest limb. He 
panted back in reply to Jim’s facetious remark: 

‘^Oh, stick your tongue in! If you fellows 
let this coon get away, I’ll lick the three of you.” 

‘‘Send down your coon,” cried Tod as Tom 
climbed higher. 

“If you see the shine of his eyes, paste him 
with the shotgun,” said Jim as they walked 
around the tree. 

“Better go slow with the shotgun while Tom’s 
up there,” Beam warned, “we don’t want to 
mar the festivities by an accident.” 

“No, besides marring Tom. I don’t want to 
be picking shot out of him for a week,” Tod 
chirped hilariously. 

Meanwhile, Tom was making his way up the 
tree, grunting and making remarks not compli- 
mentary to the coon. 

“Look out! He’s shaking a limb,” Jim spoke 
suddenly. 

The boys waited breathlessly, but nothing 
dropped. 

“You don’t seem to be a success as a coon 
shaker,” Tod called up the tree shrilly. 

“No. Thought I had him located,” and Tom 
gave a jarring kick to a limb, just to ease his 
feelings. 

The results of his vicious kick were instantane- 


240 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


ous. Before the boys could realize it, a black 
object came whirling down and hit the ground 
with a thump. Three dogs made a jump for 
the common enemy, and a growling, snarling, 
fighting bunch of dogs and coon awoke the 
echoes of the quiet night. 

Of course Tod couldn’t see to shoot, and he 
would have been more likely to hit a dog, any- 
how. However, the fracas was over in two min- 
utes, and Jim rushed in and secured the carcass 
of the coon before the dogs could tear it. 

^‘Did you get him?” Tom called down. 

‘‘Of course we got him. Shake down an- 
other. ’ ’ 

“You fellows must take this for a coon’s nest. 
Do you suppose I keep a box of them on tap up 
here?” Tom began to work his way down. 
Suddenly he slipped, and grasped a limb with a 
vigorous jerk to save himself. Another dark 
object dropped down on the back of the dogs, 
just missing Jim’s head. The coon sprang up 
and darted into the bushes, the dogs right at 
its heels. 

“Sick him. Scraps!” 

“After him, Joblots !” 

“Don’t let him get away. Nibs.” 

“They’ve nailed him!” yelled Jim, plunging 
after the dogs. 

Pandemonium reigned for a minute or two. 
Then all was quiet and Jim came back into the 
firelight lugging another coon. 


A COON HUNT 


241 


‘‘Say, Tom, you stay up there shaking down 
coons and we ^11 bring your meals to you,’^ called 
Tod. 

“Did you get the last oneT^ 

‘ ‘ Sure ! Hurry up with another. ’ ’ 

“The next coon will he an albino, I rather 
‘configurate V’ and Tom appeared below the 
leaves and began to work his way down the 
trunk. 

A moment later he sprang to the ground, say- 
ing: 

‘ ‘ There, see if one of you fellows can scare two 
coons out of the next tree.^^ 

“Think you got them allU’ Jim queried. 

“I guess so. Got enough, anyhow. How are 
they, good sizeU’ 

“Oh, just middling.’^ 

“Say, lads,’^ Tod suggested, “suppose we 
cross over and go down along the Iowa bluffs. 
We’re liable to scare up most anything around 
the rocks.” 

“Anything for fun,” replied Jim, “I don’t 
care where we go.” 

The others willing, the fire was quickly put out 
and the boys retraced their steps across the 
river. The two coons were left at camp and they 
struck across to the Iowa bluffs. From the 
river bank, the ground sloped up sharply to the 
high, frowning rocks, which were notched by 
many a narrow, wooded ravine cutting down 
through them. 


242 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^‘Now, Joblots, see if you can do as well over 
here/^ Jim said as he cast off the hound. 

‘‘I rather think there are more coons over on 
the bottoms,’^ said Tom as the dogs dashed 
away. 

“Perhaps, but it will be a change of ground, 
anyhow,’^ Beam replied as they trudged on in 
the direction the dogs had gone. 

“I expect the best show is up some of these 
ravines, ’ ’ said Tod, shifting the gun to the other 
shoulder. 

For half a mile they saimtered along the base 
of the rocks, easily keeping tab on the dogs from 
the noise they made. Once or twice Jim blew 
his whistle and called in the dogs, then sent them 
scurrying out again. 

“That sounds as if old Joblots had something 
treed exclaimed Jim, stopping suddenly. 

All listened intently. 

“He’s barking in the same spot. He’s got 
something. Come on,” cried Tod. 

“What is it, old man!” asked Jim as they 
came up to the dogs gathered under a big butter- 
nut in the mouth of a ravine. 

Just as plainly as they could, the dogs said 
they didn’t know, but it was something alive. 

“All right; we’ll investigate. Can you fel- 
lows see anything!” asked Jim. 

“Only black darkness,” said Beam, straining 
his eyes. 


A COON HUNT 


243 


‘^Hold on; I see the shine of a pair of eyes,” 
said Tom suddenly. 

^^You have mighty good optics,” Jim re- 
marked, looking long and earnestly, ^^hold on, I 
see them now. I suppose iUs up to me to climb 
this tree. Can you find any brush for a fire?” 

^‘Sticks aren’t very numerous here, but we’ll 
find something,” answered Beam as they began 
to skirmish in the gloom for firewood. 

In a short time a small blaze lighted up the 
tree trunk and Jim started to climb. 

‘‘Don’t slip a cog and fall on our heads,” 
said Tod as Jim reached the first branch. 

“I can’t make any rash promises, but what- 
ever you do, don’t let the critter get away,” and 
Jim went higher. 

He shook every limb he could see or feel, but 
nothing dropped. 

“I haven’t seen those eyes wiggle yet,” Tom 
commented, “guess he isn’t high enough yet.” 

“Now he has the right limb,” cried Tod, “see 
those green sparks sway up and down. Get out 
from under and give the dogs a chance.” 

“The critter sticks like a burr to an old over- 
coat,” said Beam, keeping his eyes steadily on 
the phosphorescent spots. 

Jim gave another vigorous shake and sud- 
denly the eyes disappeared. 

There was a scratching, scraping sound, and 
Tom leaped back just as a long claw raked his 


244 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


stomach and legs, and something hit the 
ground with a thump, at his feet. 

The snapping, growling dogs sprang forward, 
eager to bite, worry and kill, but the lightning- 
like movements of the enemy must have sur- 
prised them. Snarling, striking, and biting, it 
was everywhere at once. Now on top of a dog, 
now on its own back, its long, hooked claws 
tearing at everything within reach. A howl and 
a whine, and one of the dogs slunk away. 

“Keep back, Tom. That’s no coon,” Beam 
cried as the former started toward the dogs. 

“If I only dared shoot,” and Tod half raised 
the gun. 

“Don’t try it. You may kill one of the dogs,” 
warned Beam. 

“Get a club, then. The critter will kill every 
dog we’ve got,” cried Tod excitedly. 

“What is it?” Jim called down. 

“Near as I can make out, it’s a big wildcat. 
Mamma, how it does fight,” Tom replied with 
admiring awe. 

“Which dog threw up the sponge?” 

“Old Nibs, and I’m afraid he’s done for.” 

All of this took place in half a minute. Sud- 
denly the animal leaped over the back of the 
hound, gave Scraps a final cutf, and bounded 
away into the darkness. 

Not a dog made a move to follow it. Evi- 
dently they had had enough. 


A COON HUNT 


245 


Beam threw more brush on the fire, with the 
remark : 

‘‘Let’s brighten up the fire and see how badly 
the dogs are hurt.” 

“Don’t shake down any more of that brand 
of goods,” Tod called as he started to look for 
Nibs. 

He found the faithful setter lying down just 
outside the circle of firelight. It made no move 
to get up, and Tod called back : 

“Bring a light, somebody.” 

Beam was there in a moment with a firebrand, 
looking down anxiously at his old friend. 

One glance showed that the eyes were gone 
and the face and nose covered with blood. 

“Poor old chap, he’s done for,” said Tod pity- 
ingly, as the setter made a feeble effort to rise, 
only to fall back with a whine of pain. 

“Yes, some of you boys shoot him and end 
his misery; I can’t,” and Beam turned his head 
away. 

The other two dogs were whining, trembling, 
and licking themselves, and Tom said : 

‘ ‘ Scraps and the hound are covered with blood 
and their noses scratched to ribbons. How’s 
Nibs!” 

“One of you fellows will have to shoot him. 
I couldn’t do it,” Beam replied sadly, walking 
back to where Tom was examining the other 
dogs. 


246 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Jim, who had climbed down, now came for- 
ward. He heard Beam’s remark, and said; 

‘‘Too bad. I can do it if I have to. I sup- 
pose it’s only an act of mercy if his eyes are 
gone. Wish I had that cat in a trap.” 

He picked up the gun and walked out to the 
edge of the flickering light. A moment later a 
sharp report rang out, the fire was covered up, 
and the boys sadly retraced their steps toward 
camp. 

Two very subdued dogs followed them and the 
boys did but little talking. As they reached 
camp, tired and hungry, Tom said: 

“I think we’ll call this hunt off and go home 
in the morning. I don’t want any more wild- 
cats in mine at present.” 

“No, nor I,” replied Beam. “I feel awful bad 
about losing Nibs, poor fellow, but I suppose 
he had better go than Joblots. Bluer never 
would get over losing that hound.” 

“I should say not. Bluer thinks more of that 
dog than he does of anything. He wouldn’t have 
let us bring the critter if he hadn’t been under 
obligations to Tom,” said Jim as he dropped on 
a stool. 

“He wouldn’t anyhow, if he had supposed 
we’d run foul of a wildcat,” rejoined Tom; 
“hokey, but I’m tired!” 

“Got anything for a midnight lunch for the 
boys. Tod?” queried Beam, dropping on another 
stool. 


A COON HUNT 


247 


‘‘You know it. Here’s boiled bam, bread and 
butter, pickles, jelly, canned cherries, and other 
bric-a-brac. I’ll build up a fire in a jiffy and 
warm up some coffee. It’s all ready,” said Tod, 
bustling about in a business-like way. 

“Beam,” said Tom suddenly, “while Tod is 
getting lunch, suppose you give us the straight 
of that story about the fellow they had the in- 
quest over.” 

“Not much to tell,” returned Beam quietly, 
and he proceeded to give the boys an account of 
the strange incident. He told them of the 
stranger ’s first visit and his summary departure, 
and of his return and the tragic events follow- 
ing on the night of the terrible storm. When 
he had concluded, Tom said : 

“A mighty lucky escape, I call it.” 

“Yes,” put in Jim, “mighty lucky for Tod 
that Beam kept his wits about him.” 

“You can’t kill a fellow with a bullet if he’s 
born to die some other way. Come to lunch, 
called Tod. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BEEAKING UP OF WINTEE 

T he latter half of the winter passed 
by swiftly and smoothly for Beam and 
Tod. After the coon hunt they settled 
down to the regular routine of camp life in the 
winter. Tod^s story at the inquest excited con- 
siderable curiosity, and at ditferent times dur- 
ing the winter when the sleighing was good, 
parties would drive down to inspect the place 
of the tragic event and talk the matter over with 
the boys. 

But in the main, they were alone, cozy and 
content. 

Having plenty of blankets they slept in the 
tent every night and were warm and com- 
fortable. 

They practiced every day with the little target 
rifle, and sometimes with the 38 caliber Win- 
chester that Mr. Poster sent down ; played chess 
and checkers, read, slept, told stories and ran 
races from the cabin to the river. 

With March, the sun began to climb rapidly 
higher and higher and the snow soon felt its 
power. Gradually the white blanket shrank. 
It lost its white freshness and purity and began 
248 


THE BREAKING UP OF WINTER 249 


to take on a dirty, grimy color. Then — the joy 
of it! — a bare spot of ground appeared. That 
was cause for great rejoicing, and the two young 
hermits ran and leaped and capered like a 
couple of school hoys when the last day of 
school is at hand. 

Looks good, donT itU’ and Tod’s face 
cracked into an ample smile, as they stood on 
the bank of the ice-locked river. 

‘‘Don’t mention it,” answered Beam, while 
his face reflected the smile. “It won’t be long 
now until the ice goes.” 

“I can hardly wait to get that old boat in the 
river and feel the swing of the oars again,” said 
Tod impatiently. 

“Have patience, my son. Give old Sol time 
and he’ll bring things around all right. You 
can’t hurry him a hit. Remember the old 
adage: ‘The mills of God grind slowly, but 
they grind exceeding small.’ ” 

“If they’ll just hurry up and open this old 
river. I’ll chance the rest,” was Tod’s reply. 

Amother warm day, and many bare places 
were visible. 

Then the boys noticed, with joy, that the water 
began to creep up past the ice. 

“Good! The river is rising,” shouted Tod 
exuberantly; “that will fetch her.” 

“Yes, sir-e-e. The ice won’t stay long now. 
But we ought to see a flock of ducks or geese,” 
said Beam, scanning the heavens anxiously. 


250 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^‘IVe nearly twisted my head off looking, 
but haven T seen a thing but crows and sap- 
suckers. ’ ’ 

^‘Ice looks black and rotten out there, doesnT 
it? Beats all, how it hangs on.’’ 

‘Ht’s staying there just to be bullheaded, be- 
cause we want it to leave,” said Tod with an 
injured air, keeping one eye on the ice and the 
other turned up to the sky for ducks. 

Beam laughed. 

‘‘My; I wouldn’t he as restless and impatient 
as some folks for anything.” 

“Pity about you,” and Tod’s lip curled scorn- 
fully. Suddenly his whole appearance changed. 
His face lighted up and his eyes danced. He 
leaped three feet in the air, his index finger shot 
out as he fairly yelled : 

“Hurrah! I see ducks! I see ducks!” and 
he capered about like a monkey. 

“Where, where?” cried Beam, his eyes ex- 
panding to the limit. 

“Way over the bottoms; just above that big 
lone pinoak; see them?” 

“Yes, I see them now. That’s good for sore 
eyes. Now I’m happy and I feel as if I could 
whip my weight in wildcats,” and Beam gave 
his companion a resounding thump in the chest 
and leaped back like a panther. 

But Tod was too busy looking for more ducks 
to waste any time sparring, and the boys went 
on silently for a few moments. 


THE BREAKING UP OF WINTER 251 


Suddenly Beam’s right arm shot out, and he 
called : 

see another, right over that point.” 

‘‘And there goes a flock low down, right over 
the timber; see them? Now they’ve dived down 
into that springy slough. I’ll wager a cent the 
upper end is open. But they’re safe from us, 
now.” 

“Never mind. They’re here. That’s the- 
main thing. Say, boy, if this keeps on. I’ll have 
to lick somebody,” cried Beam, his eyes dancing 
with the joy of the true duck-hunter as he looked 
down at his shorter comrade. 

“Never mind licking anybody. Just watch 
for ducks,” continuing to scan the heavens in- 
dustriously. 

“Hark; I hear a bluebird,” Beam cried out 
again, bending his head to listen, but keeping an 
eye out for ducks. 

“I hear it, and I heard a robin this morning,” 
said Tod, his eyes glued to the sky. 

“Haven’t they a sweet, soft warble? Bless 
their little blue hearts! They bring the gentle 
springtime. ’ ’ 

“Oh, drop your moony talk and look for 
ducks. That’s what interests the subscriber at 
present; plain ducks and geese. Bluebirds and 
robins are a secondary consideration.” 

With these rather unsentimental remarks, the 
practical Tod again swept the horizon for wild- 
fowl. 


252 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘See; there’s another flock!” he exclaimed. 

“I’m going to look over my shells and shot- 
gun. I want to be ready,” cried Beam, racing 
for the cabin. 

Tod remained on the lookout for some time, 
then he went in to rummage over and sort out 
his shells. 

The following day it became quite evident that 
the ice could not hold much longer. Not only 
was it black and rotten, but the water had risen 
over a foot, thereby loosening it along the shores. 

It was just after lunch, and Beam was busy 
at something in the cabin, when he was electri- 
fied by a yell from the bank. 

He was out of the cabin in a second. 

“What is it?” 

“She’s going.” 

That was sufficient, and he was at Tod’s side 
in three jumps. 

Tod was right. The wide, lead-colored mass 
of ice was slowly moving. 

“I saw her when she first started,” he cried 
excitedly. 

Grinding and scraping along the shores, the 
great mass moved slowly and majestically for 
perhaps three hundred feet, then it caught some- 
where and stopped. 

“Keep going, old man! Don’t get weary,” 
cried Tod, shuffling about uneasily. 

“It will start again, presently,” said Beam 
with a satisfied look. 


THE BREAKING UP OF WINTER 253 


fellow can see dncks most every where, 
now that he can’t get to them,” Tod grumbled. 

‘‘I wonder if the mallards don’t drop in down 
at the foot of the island, along that low willow 
swale.” 

Might take our guns and go down there; 
maybe get a shot or two. I’ve got to do some- 
thing or bust. ’ ’ 

‘‘We won’t need many shells,” Beam remarked 
as they donned their rubber boots; “a dozen 
apiece is enough. They may not light in there 
at all. But this time of year, they’re apt to 
drop in most any place where there’s a bite to 
eat, and mallards are fond of certain kinds of 
willow roots in the spring. There, I’m ready.” 

“I’ll be ready in three-quarters of a jiffy,” 
said Tod, getting into his hip boots with feverish 
haste. 

“Follow me and I’ll make a man of you,” and 
Beam was off. 

Half-way to the foot of the island. Tod caught 
him by the sleeve. 

“I’m sure I saw a pair drop down in the wil- 
lows just then.” 

“Think soT’ Beam asked eagerly, taking the 
gun from his shoulder and breaking it from 
force of habit to see that it was loaded. 

“It was something; I just caught a glimpse of 
it.” Then, as if to back up Tod’s statement, 
the sonorous “quack, quack” of a mallard hen 
came to their delighted ears. 


254 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Some there, all right,” Beam nodded, his 
face lighting up. 

“Go easy, now,” he warned, “and if any get 
up, don’t shoot unless they are in easy range, 
for they’ll come back if they’ve been feeding 
here.” 

“It’s in that low swale just below us; where 
we had the mink trap, ’ ’ Tod half whispered. 

They had just reached the head of the swale, 
when they heard a chorus of frightened quacks, 
and a dozen mallards sprang out of the willows 
seventy-five yards below. 

“Don’t shoot!” cried Beam as Tod half raised 
his gun; “they’ll come back.” 

“Better split up,” Tod suggested as he low- 
ered his gun. “You go down toward the lower 
end, and I’ll stay up along here somewhere. 

, We ’ll catch more of them when they drop in.” 

Beam nodded and kept on his way down the 
swale, while Tod went a little farther and halted 
under a willow. 

Beam went nearly to the lower end, and had 
just stopped to survey the situation, when, with- 
out warning, a pair of mallards leaped up with 
frightened quacks, not twenty-five yards away. 

Such an opportunity could not be lost, and his 
gun went to his shoulder like a flash. 

At the first report the drake subsided, but the 
hen was farther away and among the willow 
tops, and lived to tell the tale after the second 
barrel spoke. 


THE BREAKING UP OF WINTER 255 


Beam heard ducks getting up at other points, 
and stood still. 

Presently he heard Tod's gun, both barrels, 
and knew something was going on up there. 
Then all was quiet for a few minutes. 

Then he gripped his gun tighter, for soft and 
low came the electrifying hiss of a mallard 
drake. 

Beam stood like a statue, not moving a muscle. 

Then through the willows came a pair of mal- 
lards, chattering and hissing their spring song. 
Evidently, they concluded that was the place 
to dine, for they slid over the willows and down 
into the swale with graceful abandon. 

The wings were thrown up and the orange 
legs extended to alight, when Beam's gun sprang 
to his eye. 

The movement caught their attention and both 
ducks leaped into the air, — too late. The first 
barrel caught the drake squarely and he wilted 
like a rag. The hen climbed still higher, but 
this time she was in fair view, and when the 
gun cracked she doubled up like a ball in the 
air and struck the ground with a thump. 

Beam picked up the ducks, muttering as he 
inserted fresh shells : 

‘‘There goes Tod's gun again." 

Then another wait ensued. Presently he 
heard another report from Tod, and a moment 
later a drake came down from that direction, 
just over the willows. 


256 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Looks as if Toddy missed tiiat time/’ Beam 
chuckled to himself. ‘H’ll see what I can do for 
you, my friend.” 

The drake, came squarely over him, xmsuspi- 
cious of danger. 

Then came a flash and a report, the dark green 
head was thrown over on the back, the wings 
folded, and the drake crashed down through the 
willows. 

‘You can’t fool all of the people all the 
time,’ ducky!” Beam’s eyes shone as he re- 
loaded. 

He picked up the drake, remarking to himself : 

“That makes four; guess I’ll go up where Tod 
is. We don’t want to get too many to-day,” 
and, gathering up his birds, he started back, 
keeping his eyes and ears alert. 

He was about half-way to Tod, when he saw 
a mallard sailing over the willows about where 
he supposed Tod was located. 

Suddenly, without hearing a sound of any 
kind. Beam saw the bird double in the air as if 
struck by lightning. 

He just had time to say, “well,” when he 
heard the report of a gun. 

Then he smiled and understood the situation. 
The duck had been killed so quickly, that it 
started to fall before the sound of the gun could 
reach him. 

“Did you get a lone drake a few minutes 


^THE BREAKING UP OF WINTER 257 


agoT’ Tod asked as he came up to the latter’s 
stand. 

‘^Yes, the one you missed,” said Beam, throw- 
ing down his four mallards. 

wouldn’t have missed him if he’d come 
close enough,” Tod declared. ‘^It was a long 
shot, but I thought I’d chance it. Most of them 
don’t come quite this high up.” 

‘‘He came right over me, just at the top of 
the willows. How many have you?” 

“Three,” and Tod pointed to three birds be- 
hind him. 

“That’s enough to-day. We don’t want more 
than we can eat. Let’s go hack and see if the 
ice has started again,” Beam proposed, picking 
up his ducks. 

“That’s my kind of shooting,” said Tod as 
they tramped back. 

“Yes, I always liked to shoot mallards in the 
timber. Think I prefer it to decoys.” 

“I know I do. I suppose Tom Williams 
wouldn’t, though.” 

“No, he’s a decoy crank of the first water. 
A matter of taste, I suppose. We can’t all like 
the same things best. ’ ’ 

“She’s moving again, all right,” cried Beam, 
as they came in view of the river, “if she just 
keeps it up. ’ ’ 

“That’s good. I hope it’s gone by to-mor- 
row. I’d like to take a row on the old creek once 


258 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


more/^ said Tod, smiling as he saw the black, 
rotten ice grinding along with the current. 

‘‘There’s an open spot, and ducks in it, too.” 

“They’ll keep. We can get after them with 
the boat by to-morrow, maybe. Hope so, any- 
how. ’ ’ 

The boys hung up the ducks and put away the 
guns, then went out and sat on the friendly old 
log on the bank and watched that ever-fascinat- 
ing spectacle, the moving of the ice in spring. 

Bluebirds warbled softly, crows flapped lazily 
and aimlessly across the sky, and robins told 
how glad they were to return. Tiny rivulets 
trickled down into the swales, forming pools for 
the birds and frogs. A delicious sense of 
warmth and languor pervaded everything. In 
such an air it was joy just to be alive. 

Truly, Nature was in one of her mildest, soft- 
est moods. 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 

H aving just started on its southward 
journey, the ice was still in large 
cakes. Sometimes these cakes reached 
almost from shore to shore; — then would come 
a stretch more or less broken up. Every few 
minutes some telltale evidence of the various 
uses that the crystal bridge had been put to would 
drift by. Some of them were gruesome. For 
instance; presently the boys descried a dead 
horse, well over toward the other shore, drift- 
ing along on a big ice floe, with a couple of crows 
perched contentedly on its back. 

Then a section of wood road, that teamsters 
had used in the winter, went along. 

A group of several bushes, standing upright 
in the ice, drifted slowly past. A battered old 
tin can among the bushes furnished the key tq 
that mystery. 

‘‘Somebody’s fishing ground,” Tod remarked. 
“Everybody seems to leave some kind of a 
trace when they use this river in the winter,” 
said Beam; “there’s a few sticks of cordwood 
some fellow has lost off his load.” 

A few minutes later Tod said : 

259 


260 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

There’s something that looks like the wreck 
of an old bob-sled. Some fellow’s had a break- 
down probably, and didn’t go back to pick up 
the remnants.” 

Then another winter ice road drifted by. 

Toward evening the ice stopped again, and 
Tod was on nettles once more. 

‘‘Why can’t the old creek clear up and be 
done with it?” he growled petulantly. 

“It’s clogged below somewhere,” returned 
Beam, ‘ ‘ but it can ’t last forever. Have patience, 
like Job.” 

“Job was never snowed in three months on 
an island, ’ ’ Tod retorted, and Beam laughed. 

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” he said; “no 
fun watching the ice any more at present; let’s 
go up to the north end of the island, where 
Dutch John claimed they saw those lights, and 
look over the ground; the snow’s gone now. 
Ever nosed around there any!” 

“No, I never took any stock in the yarns, so 
I didn’t bother my head about it. We’ve both 
been over the ground with the target rifle ; noth- 
ing there but two or three Indian mounds and 
some trees. But, of course, if you want to go 
up there, I don’t care.” 

“Well, we’ve nothing else to do, and it 
isn’t supper time yet; let’s go up, just for fun.” 

As Tod said, there was nothing of interest to 
be seen. There were only two good-sized 
mounds and one smaller, grouped together. 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 261 


One side of the largest mound sloped down 
sharply and was strewn with pebbles and small 
stones. 

‘‘What there is about this place to cause any- 
body to go through gymnastics and swing lights 
around, I can’t see,” said Tod scornfully as 
they walked over and around the little hillocks. 
“Dutch John and the rest probably saw some 
fireflies and worked their imagination for the 
balance of the story. Anybody can see with 
one eye there’s nothing here. If it were in the 
rocky bluffs, with a chance for caves, there 
would be some sense in their yarns. ’ ’ 

“I confess I can’t see anything very alarming 
about the place,” Beam admitted, after scruti- 
nizing every stone and tree. 

“Then let’s go to camp; and don’t ever tell 
anybody that we were silly enough to come 
around here looking for robbers’ dens,” and 
Tod started for the cabin. 

Beam laughed good-naturedly and followed. 
He had about reached Tod’s conclusion. 

“Haven’t you got that ‘light’ story out of 
your head yet?” asked Tod as he started the 
supper going. 

“Yes, I had a few traces left, but they’re gone 
now.” 

“One would think you had a whole harness 
left, to watch you peek around there. ’ ’ 

Beam laughed at the pun, then added seri- 
ously : 


262 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


tMnk it^s all balderdash, just as you do. 
Let’s forget it.” 

‘‘All right. Excuse me for not cleaning one 
of those ducks for supper, but between watching 
the ice and going up with you on that geological 
goose chase, I didn ’t have time. ’ ’ 

“I’ll forgive you. Another meal of bacon 
won’t hurt us.” 

.The following day the river was almost clear. 
Only a few big cakes drifted idly along. 

The boys put the boat and canoe in the water, 
and took a row and a paddle, dodging the ice 
cakes meanwhile, but they did not venture across 
the river on an extended hunt, as they feared 
another ice floe might come along and cut them 
off from the base of supplies. 

However, they were in no hurry. Spring had 
come, and they were correspondingly happy. 

“Better put our decoys out on that Point 
where we shot last fall, and leave them there, 
hadn’t we!” Tod suggested. 

“Yes, as soon ^s the ice stops running. We 
don’t want a cake of ice to come along and carry 
them down to New Orleans.” 

“Not much danger there. It’s dead water 
almost, to the left of the Point,” Tod replied. 

“You can’t tell what a cake of ice will do in 
the wind. ’ ’ 

However, the following afternoon the ice 
seemed to be entirely out of the river, so the boys 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 263 


loaded the decoys in the big skiff and rowed 
over to the Pointo The wooden ducks were 
anchored properly with strong cords and heavy 
weights, and after watching them in the blind 
for half an hour, and no flight being on, the boys 
went back to camp, intending to return in the 
morning. 

They did not care to get out very early that 
morning, so the sun was peeping over the trees 
when they walked down to the bank to cross over 
to the decoys. 

“Who is this coming T’ said Tod as a boat 
containing two men came along down the island. 

“It can’t be Tom and Jim, can it?” asked 
Beam, straining his eyes to identify the occu- 
pants of the boat. 

“I wonder if it isn’t?” and Tod’s face lighted 
up joyfully. 

“Anyhow, we’ll wait and see before we start 
out.” 

As the boat came nearer. Tod said : 

“I don’t think that’s Tom and Jim.” 

“Who can it be, then?” queried Beam, finger- 
ing his gun locks. 

‘ ‘ Tell you later. ’ ’ 

Nearer and nearer the boat approached, and 
suddenly Tod spoke in a suppressed voice : 

“The fellow in the stern is that man Johnson.” 

“I believe you’re right,” Beam said after 
another look. 


264 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I know I^m right. Can’t fool me.” 

Presently the boat came along, and they were 
not astonished to hear a familiar voice say : 

‘ ‘ Hello, boys ! How are the ducks ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, they’re flying some. How do you do, 
Mr. Johnson I” Beam called back. 

“I’m well, thank you. How are you and 
Todr’ 

“Oh, we’re too healthy for any use,” Beam 
said with a laugh. 

“That’s good. So your lungs are all right 
again!” 

“Yes, sir. Seem to be sound as a nut,” and 
Beam thumped his chest. 

“Glad to hear it,” said Mr. Johnson heartily. 

Then he added as he stepped out of the boat : 

“Thought I’d come down and have a little 
duck hunt with you, and I took the liberty of 
bringing a friend along. Is it all right!” 

“Certainly,” Beam returned courteously, 
“you are both welcome. We were just going 
over to the decoys now. Tie your boat and get 
in with us and come along.” 

“Well, that’s lucky. We’ll do it. This is my 
friend, Mr. Craven, boys. ’ ’ Then turning to his 
companion, “This is Beam Foster and Tod Mas- 
ters, whom you have heard me speak of. ’ ’ 

The introduction acknowledged, Mr. John- 
son’s boat tied, and the four stepped into Beam’s 
roomy skiff. 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 265 


Mr. Craven was a very silent man and let his 
companion do most of the talking. In fact, he 
rarely spoke, except in monosyllables, or to 
answer a question. On his face was a look of 
sadness that the boys could not help noticing. 

‘‘I don’t know whether they’re going to fly 
much to-day or not,” Beam remarked as they 
approached the Point. Sometimes the flight 
doesn’t begin until nine or ten o’clock.” 

Ducks are erratic birds, I know,” replied 
Mr. Johnson, when they had landed. Their 
flight depends somewhat on the weather and the 
time of year.” 

‘^And the kind of ducks,” put in Tod as they 
started for the blind. 

‘‘There goes a flock just over the water now, 
but they don’t see the decoys,” said Beam, and 
all hurried into the blind. 

Presently Beam added, in a low voice : 

“Here comes a pair up over the water. We 
always give visitors the first shot.” 

“All right; be ready. Craven,” Mr. Johnson 
replied, in a voice a little too loud for an old 
duck-hunter. 

Mr. Craven made no reply, and moved not a 
muscle. He simply slipped the safety with a 
single movement of the thumb. 

A moment later the ducks were over the de- 
coys, and Mr. Johnson, rising, so he would have 
an unobstructed view, fired both barrels. 


266 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

The only effect upon the ducks, a pair of gad- 
wells, was to cause them to spring into the air 
and sheer off. 

Then Beam and Tod were treated to a bit of 
shooting that did their hearts good. 

Mr. Craven’s gun went to his shoulder as if 
sent by a steel spring. The two reports blended 
almost as one, and both ducks, although several 
feet apart, dropped into the water. 

‘^Why, you’re a good duck shot!” said Mr. 
Johnson as he reloaded his gun. 

^‘He comes pretty near being an expert,” 
smiled Beam as Tod started after the game. 

used to hunt ducks a great deal in my 
younger days,” replied Mr. Craven quietly as 
he slipped in fresh shells. 

never hunted ducks very much,” Mr. John- 
son admitted, ‘^but I like it. If I had leisure, 
I’d be hunting them all the time.” 

Tod returned to the blind after retrieving the 
birds, and a ten-minute wait followed. 

‘‘I hear some behind us,” Mr. Craven said 
presently, in the same low, even tone. 

All listened. 

Suddenly a flock of bluebills swept down over 
their heads on a sharp incline. 

Every one remained motionless but Mr. 
Craven. As the flock came over, his gun sprang 
to his shoulder, two quick reports followed, and 
two ducks splashed down in the edge of the 
water. 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 267 


Beam and Tod looked at each other in aston- 
ishment. 

The birds had been going at express train 
speed, and it seemed as if it would hustle a 
streak of lightning to catch them, especially on 
a sharp incline. Yet here was a man who made 
a double without an etfort. 

Mr. Craven saw the look, and smiled at their 
enthusiasm. 

beg your pardon,’’ he said quietly, ‘‘per- 
haps I should have waited for them to come back. 
But it used to be my custom always to shoot 
when the birds were in range, no matter at what 
angle or position they were in. One never can 
tell what ducks will do. They may come back 
and they may not. ’ ’ 

“You are perfectly right there, Mr. Craven. 
Ducks are very uncertain critters,” Beam 
answered with a laugh, “but it takes more skill 
than the average hunter possesses to hit them 
at that speed and that angle. I’m glad to know 
a man who can do it. ’ ’ 

“So am I,” burst out Tod. “You beat any- 
thing I ever saw in the duck-shooting line,” and 
he waded out after the two ducks. 

“Yes, I wish I could shoot that way,” said Mr. 
Johnson admiringly. 

The flight that morning proved very uneven. 
Sometimes flock would follow flock in quick suc- 
cession ; then a long wait would ensue. 

Mr. Craven proved himself a phenomenal shot, 


268 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


at any and all angles. He rarely missed, and 
never paused an instant in Ms aim. 

By noon they had twenty birds, and decided 
to return to camp for lunch. After lunch they 
discussed the morning shoot, and talked on other 
subjects until about two o’clock, when Mr. John- 
son said : 

‘^Well, we must get back to town this evening. 
But I want to thank both of you boys for the 
sport we have had. I only hope we can have 
more of it in the future. ’ ’ 

Don’t mention it,” laughed Beam. ‘^It’s 
worth something to see this friend of yours 
shoot ducks. He takes the medal around here. ’ ’ 

Mr. Craven smiled quietly, and said : ‘ ‘ Thank 
you,” while Mr. Johnson remarked: 

^ ‘ Yes, he is certainly a fine shot. I envy him. ’ ’ 

Shortly after they made ready to return, the 
boys insisting that they take most of the ducks. 

^‘We kill all we want, and more too,” said 
Beam. 

^‘All right, then,” responded Mr. Johnson 
heartily, ‘M’ll give them to your folks and let 
them distribute the birds around to their friends. 
All we wanted was the fun of shooting. ’ ’ 

A few moments later the two men were row- 
ing up the river. 

‘^What do you think of Mr. Craven for a duck 
shot?” Beam asked with a grin. 

think he’s the best duck shot in the coun- 
try,” said Tod emphatically. 


MR. JOHNSON AND HIS FRIEND 269 


‘‘I wonder how Johnson happened to have him 
in tow?” 

‘‘I’ll give it np. And Johnson didn’t offer 
any explanation of his leaving so suddenly last 
fall, either.” 

“No, never said a word about it.” 

“Something queer about the man’s actions,” 
Tod said. And Beam thought so, too. 

But, of course, they were only guessing. 


CHAPTER XIX 


ANOTHER CAMPER 

^ ^ UPPOSE we take a spin down the Illi- 
nois shore and see if there is any show 
for bass yet,’’ Beam suggested, the 
second day after the shoot with Mr. Johnson and 
his friend. 

‘‘Good enough; I’m ready for anything. Get 
the rods and I’ll skim you over there in a jiffy. 
Haven’t much faith in bass yet, though.” 

“Neither have I, but we want to do something 
to earn our supper, and incidentally put on 
muscle.” 

Five minutes later they were skimming across 
the river. 

‘ ‘ Drop down to where that little run comes in. 
It’s springy and there might be a show for early 
bass ground up in there. ’ ’ 

“We didn’t have much luck there last sum- 
mer; the water was too low. But, as you say, 
it may be good early ground, on account of the 
springs,” said Tod, turning the boat down the 
shore. 

‘ ‘ Here we are. Suppose we run up it a little, ’ ’ 
Beam proposed, and accordingly Tod turned the 
boat up the run, which came in at a sharp angle. 

270 


ANOTHER CAMPER 


271 


Hello! Here’s another camp,” Beam re- 
marked in surprise, before they: had gone forty 
yards up the run. 

Tod paused with uplifted oars, and looked 
around. 

He saw a small wedge tent on the bank of the 
run and, as he looked, a man came out of the 
tent. 

‘‘Some hunter or trapper,” and the oars 
again dipped the water and resumed their swing. 

“Might stop and pass the time of day with 
him,” Beam suggested. 

A moment later .Tod touched the shore by the 
little tent. 

“I’m betting that you are the boys who are 
camping on the island,” was the greeting from 
shore. 

Although considerably taken aback. Beam re- 
sponded promptly: 

“That’s a safe bet. We’re the lads.” 

“I thought so. I’ve been coming over to see 
you and swap shooting and fishing yarns,” was 
the reply, as the occupant of the tent walked 
leisurely down to the boat. 

“We thought we might find some early bass 
up this springy run, ’ ’ Beam said. 

“That’s one reason I camped here, but 
I haven’t caught a single one yet. Guess it’s 
little early.” 

“No use for us to try it, then.” 

“No, but come up on the bank a while and 


272 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


tell us what you have been doing, and how long 
you have been camping. I don’t have many 
visitors, and they help a fellow’s digestion won- 
derfully,” was the genial reply. 

The tone was so cordial that the boys couldn’t 
resist. They stepped out, pulled up the boat, 
and took a seat on the bank. 

‘‘Been over there very long!” and the man 
nodded toward the island. 

‘ ‘ Since last August, ’ ’ Beam replied. 

“Well, quite a camping trip, for an outing.” 

“It wasn’t exactly an outing,” said Beam 
quietly. “I have been curing up a bad lung.” 

“Ah, yes. Best medicine in the world.” 

“I’m getting about all right again,” Beam 
continued, “so we’ll probably break camp in a 
few days and go home. ’ ’ 

“How did you happen to camp over on that 
island so long!” 

“Why not there as well as anywhere!” Beam 
asked. “The island belongs to my father, and 
we felt that we had a right there. ’ ’ 

“That makes some difference, of course.” 

Then the speaker paused and said with a 
laugh : 

“When I spoke, I was thinking of my own 
experience. I camped along here a few days, a 
couple of years ago, and I put in one night on 
that island. About twelve o’clock that night I 
heard the most dismal groans and cries out in 
the woods somewhere; sounded like somebody 


/ 


ANOTHER CAMPER 


273 


in pain. I looked out of the tent, but couldnT 
see anything out of the way. I went back to bed 
and presently I heard it again. Sometimes it 
sounded up in the trees and sometimes on the 
ground. I^m not given to superstition, but that 
kind of a racket was too much for my nerves, 
and I didn’t sleep any more that night. Soon 
as it was daylight, I went out and looked all 
around. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet, 
but just the same, I packed my stuff and got off 
of there. It was too uncanny for me. I want 
to be where I can sleep nights, ’ ’ and the narrator 
shook his head in a convinced way. 

‘‘We haven’t been bothered,” Beam replied, 
‘ ‘ although some of the farmers over on the bluffs 
claim to have heard queer noises and seen 
strange lights. We haven’t paid much attention 
to their stories, though; laid it to their country 
superstition. ’ ’ 

The man seemed to give a sigh of relief as 
he smiled and said : 

“I’m glad somebody else heard them. I’ve 
sometimes thought it might have been my imag- 
ination, but now I’ll always think there was 
something in it.” 

“Funny we haven’t heard anything mysteri- 
ous,” put in Tod. 

“That’s the part of it I don’t understand. 
Perhaps the spooks have left,” and he laughed 
again. Then, as if throwing the subject from 
his mind, he said genially ; 


274 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^But let’s talk about something pleasanter. 
What do you boys do to pass away the time?” 

‘‘Oh, the same as any other camper,” Beam 
answered, “shoot, fish, row, walk, eat, sleep, 
read and loaf. ’ ’ 

“I suppose you are getting pretty tired of it 
by this time. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I don’t know; we both like the woods 
and streams, ’ ’ said Beam simply. 

“So do 1. You are my kind of boys, I can 
see, and I’m liable to come over and call on you 
most any time. I’m Abe Dawson, and I camp 
out a while every year. Don’t do much but fish 
and loaf, but I like the country,” and the man’s 
eye sparkled with enthusiasm. 

“Glad to see you any time,” Beam returned 
cordially. “We don’t have many visitors, so 
they are doubly welcome.” 

“I may drop over this afternoon if I have 
time. You see, I am a sort of an amateur bota- 
nist and do considerable writing in the way of 
notes and classifications.” 

“All right; come any time. The latch string 
is always out. By the way, what bait have you 
used here for bass?” 

“I’ve tried everything; minnows, worms, 
spoon, salt pork, and I don’t know what 
else.” 

For an hour the boys lingered with their new 
acquaintance. He was evidently a nature lover, 
and had a pleasant, engaging way of talking on 


ANOTHER CAMPER 


275 


wood lore and botany. Both felt glad that the 
fishing trip had carried them where it did, for it 
had added another genial acquaintance to their 
list. 

When at last they arose to go, Beam said : 

“Now he sure and come over. As we are 
camp neighbors, we may as well be sociable. ^ ’ 

“That’s the way to talk,” was the hearty re- 
sponse; “I’ll be over just as soon as I can get 
some work out of the way.” 

“Come over and stay to tea,” Tod invited as 
they stepped into the boat. 

“Maybe I will. It would save me the trouble 
of building a fire,” Dawson answered with a 
laugh and a twinkle of the eye, as the boys pulled 
out. 

“Another nice, jolly chap,” Tod said, when 
they were well under way. 

“Yes, wish he camped on the island.” 

“What do you think about the groans and 
racket he heard when he camped there ? ’ ’ 

“It’s a poser. I’ll confess. Funny part of it 
is that it agrees with what Dutch John told us, 
just as we had settled the matter that it was 
tramps.’^ 

“Perhaps it was tramps, and we scared them 
so they don’t come back any more,” suggested 
Tod. 

< < There may be something in that idea. How- 
ever, so long as we are not molested, we won’t 
bother our heads over the matter.” 


276 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


It was almost noon when the boys pulled into 
camp. 

‘‘Strikes me it’s about lunch time,” Beam re- 
marked as they stepped out and tied the boat. 

Tod laughed. 

“Seems to me you are getting as anxious 
about meal time as I am.” 

“I guess so. I can eat any old time these 
days.” 

A generous lunch was disposed of, and then 
followed the usual loafing bee on the old log. 
Both were anxious to have their new friend call 
upon them, and two pairs of eyes frequently 
wandered across to the little run. 

It was about three o’clock when Tod said with 
a brightening eye : 

“Here he comes all right. I was afraid he 
might get busy and forget it. ’ ’ 

“Yes, that’s who it is, I guess. We want to 
make him stay to supper, too. He must be lone- 
some over there, ’ ’ remarked Beam as he watched 
the little boat, with a single occupant, coming 
toward them. 

“He’ll stay, I know.” 


CHAPTEE XX 


A STRANGE EXPEEIENC3E 


‘W 


^ONDEE where he lives T’ Beam 
mused. 

He ’ll probably tell us, when 
he gets to talking. Looks like a man who had 
been cooped up in the house lately.” 

‘‘Yes, but he likes outdoor life, or he wouldn’t 
be camping alone,” returned Beam as the boat 
drew near the shore. 

“Welcome to Duck Island,” Tod called as Mr. 
Dawson landed. “We were afraid you wouldn’t 
come. ’ ’ 

“I got lonesome after finishing my work, and 
thought I would keep my promise. ’ ’ 

The visitor unshipped his oars and stepped 
out. 


“Tie her there, by our boat,” said Beam cor- 
dially. 

“Ever troubled with sneak thieves here on 
the main river ? ’ ’ 

“Not a bit ; never have missed a thing. Come 
up and take an easy chair on the old log,” said 
Beam, leading the way up the bank. 

“Mighty fine view of the river here; you can 
277 


278 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


see every skiff and steamboat that passes/^ and 
Mr. Dawson dropped on the log contentedly. 

“Yes, we flatter ourselves that we struck about 
as nice a camping spot as there is around. ’ ’ 

^ ^ I see you have a live-box and a minnow box. 
Everything up to date. ’ ’ 

“Yes, just as well have things handy.’’ 

“I was raised along the river. My home used 
to be in St. Louis. But I have been traveling 
a good deal of late years, so I don’t see the old 
creek as often as I’d like to. Whenever I get a 
vacation, I generally head for the Mississippi.” 

“A person never loses his love for the big 
river,” returned Beam quietly. 

“I never do, I know. It has a wonderful fas- 
cination for me. By the way, I caught one bass 
over there, after you left. Shows they’re begin- 
ning to bite. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ This warm weather will make them hungry, ’ ’ 
put in Tod. 

“I hope they will be biting better before I 
leave. ’ ’ 

“The bass around here are generally good 
fighters, as you probably know,” Beam re- 
marked. 

“Yes, I never found but two or three streams 
where they fought any better, and I have fished 
over a considerable part of the globe. ’ ’ 

“Did you ever cross the Atlantic?” asked Tod 
curiously, 

“Yes, and the Pacific and the Indian Ocean. 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 


279 


I have been in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and I 
donT know how many other places and seen 
many strange things/’ 

‘‘Gee Whillikins! Tell ns about some of 
them, ’ ’ cried Tod, his eyes dancing eagerly. 

“Did you ever see the Pyramids and Sphinx?” 
Beam asked, his eyes lighting up also. 

“Yes, and climbed the big pyramid twice.” 

“Tell us about it.” Tod spoke with such be- 
seeching earnestness, that their guest smiled and 
said: 

“All right; I know just how you boys feel. 
I used to yearn to see some of the wonders of 
the world, and I didn’t rest until I saw them.” 

Thereupon he entered into a series of tales 
of travel and adventure that held his youthful 
listeners in wondering, ecstatic delight the re- 
mainder of the afternoon. 

He told of crossing the ocean in steamships 
and in sailing vessels, of tiger and lion hunts, 
of shipwrecks and drifting for days upon the 
sea, of being in battles and exploring expedi- 
tions, of tramping over burning deserts, of being 
cast into loathsome dungeons by the vengeful 
Turk, of climbing the pyramids and voyaging 
down the Nile, and of life in China and other 
lands. 

No lecturer ever held a more appreciative 
audience. He was a fluent talker and the boys 
hung upon his every word. Poor thirsty souls, 
they had hardly been outside of their village, and 


280 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

here was a man who had been face to face with 
most of the wonders they had read and heard of. 
No wonder they were delighted, entranced and 
enthralled. 

The snn dropped low in the west, and finally 
Tod heaved a sigh of regret and looked at his 
watch. 

‘‘Goodness me, if it isn’t five-thirty and no 
supper started ! I hate to break away, Mr. Daw- 
son, hut business is business, and we must eat. 
You must stay to supper. I’ll have it ready in 
a jiffy. Only don’t tell any more stories until 
I can hear them. ’ ’ 

“All right,” laughed the former; “I’ll rest 
my voice while you get supper.” 

And Tod darted away to prepare the evening 
meal, while Beam and their guest strolled about 
and talked on other subjects. 

Tod was so eager to hear more stories, that 
he hurried supper along with a rush. In a seem- 
ingly incredibly short time, he announced the 
meal ready, and the three sat down to partake 
of it. 

‘ ‘ So you have cured a case of lung trouble by 
simply living out in the woods?” asked Mr. Daw- 
son as he sipped his coffee. 

“Yes, sir. No medicine of any kind.” 

“Truly remarkable.’^ 

“The best of it is, it was a doctor that ad- 
vised me to come,” laughed Beam. 

“Yes, they don’t do that very often, I guess.” 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 


281 


Where does the trained nurse come in!’’ Hod 
inquired gravely. 

^‘The trained nurse!” inquired Mr. Dawson, 
elevating his eyebrows in a puzzled way. 

Beam laughed. 

‘‘We call Tod the trained nurse. He is taking 
care of me.” 

“Oh, I see. How stupid of me,” said their 
guest, joining in the laugh. 

“Now,” said Tod familiarly, when they had 
finished supper, “I want to hear some more 
travel yarns, and I know Beam does. WTiat’s 
the matter with you staying all night with us, 
and we’ll show you what a nice quiet island we 
have these days. We have room enough in the 
tent.” 

“Yes, just as well as not,” chimed in Beam. 

“Well, really, I hadn’t thought of such a 
thing. But if you boys wish it, I don’t care,” 
returned Mr. Dawson good-naturedly. 

“I’ll get the dishes out of the way in short 
order, then we’ll loaf and talk under the trees,” 
said Tod, hustling about his task. 

“As I told you, I haven’t a very good opinion 
of this island as a quiet resting place, but it 
seems to act all right now, ’ ’ remarked Mr. Daw- 
son as they arose from the table. 

“Of course it’s all right,” Tod assured him 
confidently; “nothing but owls, bullfrogs and 
crickets to bother, and they just lull you to 
sleep.” 


282 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Half an hour later, the trio were gathered 
under the trees in the soft spring air, and Mr. 
Dawson was again launched upon his fascinat- 
ing tales of travel and adventure. All too 
swiftly for Tod and Beam, the hours drifted by. 
Darkness settled over the island and river. 
Nine, ten, eleven o’clock came and went; then 
Beam scratched a match and looked at his watch. 

^ ‘ Say, it ’s after eleven o ’clock. W e don ’t want 
to tire out Mr. Dawson the first night. We’ll 
have plenty of chances to hear more stories. 
Better put him to bed now and let him get some 
rest. I’ll fix a bed for him,” and Beam started 
for the tent. 

^^You must excuse us,” Tod apologized with 
a laugh, ‘‘but this is the first time either of us 
ever met anybody who had seen the things you 
have, and would tell about them. ’ ’ 

“Your curiosity is only natural, my boy. 
Any intelligent mind yearns to know something 
of strange lands and people,” replied Mr. Daw- 
son kindly as they followed Beam to the tent. 

By the dim rays of the lantern. Beam was 
arranging a bed in the corner. 

“Don’t try to fix: anything elaborate. I can 
sleep in a tree if necessary.” 

“We haven’t anything very elaborate to fix,” 
Beam responded with a laugh, as he threw down 
another blanket. “There, I guess you can sleep 
on that all right. ’ ’ 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 


283 


^^Good enough bed for a king,’^ said Mr. Daw- 
son with a yawn. 

Ten minutes later, the light was out, and 
silence reigned in the tent. 

Soon a gentle snore from Tod told that he had 
drifted away to the unknown land of dreams. 
[Then a soft gurgle from Mr. Dawson’s corner 
showed that he, too, was wooing the slumbrous 
god. Beam soon followed suit, and the hours 
drifted peacefully on, only a chorus of frogs 
breaking the stillness. 

It was after two o ’clock, when Beam felt some- 
thing touch him on the shoulder. Always a light 
sleeper, he was awake in an instant. 

What is it? ” 

^^Do you hear that?” came the whispered an- 
swer. It was the voice of Mr. Dawson. 

Before Beam could reply, a sepulchral groan 
was heard outside the tent. 

^^What in the world can it be?” Beam was 
upright in bed in an instant, his ears keenly alert. 

^‘Oh, my boy, I fear the worst. I should not 
have remained here over night,” and Beam 
caught the tremble of fright in the whispered 
voice. 

‘^I’ll wake Tod,” said Beam, shaking his part- 
ner vigorously but softly. 

The latter, aroused from his sleep, was about 
to blurt out something, when again came that 
dismal groan. 


284 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^Wha — whaUs thatU’ he whispered, his hair 
slowly rising at the gruesome sound. 

‘‘We donT know. Mr. Dawson just heard it 
and woke me. Listen!^’ 

Another blood-curdling groan thrilled the lis- 
teners, and then came the awful words : 

“Abraham Dawson, leave this island with the 
break of dawn. The spot is accursed of God. 
Twice you are warned; beware the third. Your 
young friends must, too, leave this fateful spot. 
Hell yawns for them if they heed not this warn- 
ing. We are the spirits of men murdered here. 
Doomed to wander eternally through space, on 
the Ides of every April we return to warn the un- 
wary. Behold the manifestations of a mys- 
terious power.’’ 

An explosion followed the prophetic words, 
and a greenish glare was visible through the 
tent. 

“Oh! Lord! And this is the 15th of April!” 
Mr. Dawson’s voice sounded piteous in its terror. 

Another explosion was followed by a hissing 
sound, and a yellow light shone through the 
tent. 

Neither of the boys believed in the manifes- 
tations of spirits, but they were face to face now 
with something that staggered them, and even 
Beam shivered at the dreadful warning. 

Tod belonged to the practical sort, that are 
brave because they lack sufficient imagination to 
be easily frightened. But he was thoroughly 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 


285 


frightened now, as he could tell by his voice that, 
although a seasoned traveler, Mr. Dawson was 
plainly in a state of terror. 

As the hissing came to his ears. Beam 
with trembling hand opened a tiny bit of the tent 
flap and peered out. 

‘‘Look hereP’ 

The very tone of his voice caused the others 
to peer out into the night. Truly it was a grue- 
some sight. A serpent of fire writhed and twisted 
on the ground before the tent. Through the dim 
yellow glare they could see its angry, darting 
tongue, and anon see it pause and peer about as 
if looking for something, while above it shone a 
soft phosphorescent glow. 

“The rod of Aaron^^; a low groan came from 
Mr. Dawson and he sank to the ground. 

“For Heaven’s sake, shut the tent. It may 
see us.” Tod was barely able to whisper the 
words audibly. 

Beam obeyed mechanically, and the terrible ob^ 
ject was shut from view. 

For a few brief moments they remained like 
statues, hardly daring to breathe, then the yellow 
glare faded slowly way. But once more came 
that sepulchral voice : 

“We go, but we return. Be warned! Be 
warned! Be warned!” 

The latter words were uttered slowly and dis- 
tinctly, each time sounding a little farther away. 
Then all was quiet. Even the frogs were still. 


286 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


For some time not a move was made in the 
tent, then Mr. Dawson roused up and said: 

‘‘Thank Heaven it is over. From this time 
on, I believe in the spirit world, and if I live 
until daybreak I will heed the warning.’’ 

“So will I,” murmured Tod. “I don’t want’ 
any more of this.” 

“Why do you suppose we were allowed to re- 
main here so long in peace?” Beam asked in a 
subdued voice. 

“Didn’t you hear the spirit say, they returned 
the Ides of every April? To-day is the Ides of 
April; the 15th,” replied Mr. Dawson in a low 
solemn tone, as he sat up and mopped his stream- 
ing brow. 

“I wouldn’t stay here another night for a 
farm.” Tod uttered the words with heartfelt 
unction. 

“Neither would I, and I wish it was daylight 
right now,” returned Mr. Dawson. 

“It won’t be long until daylight,” and Beam 
peeped out of the tent again. “What do you 
think of this, Mr. Dawson?” 

“I think that there is a spirit world and its 
ways and workings are forever hidden from mor- 
tal intellect, ’ ’ was the reply in a thoroughly con- 
vinced tone. “We have just witnessed some- 
thing that no human being can explain. ’ ’ 

Sleep was out of the question the remainder 
of the night. Quietly conversing in a low tone 
or sitting in silence, the night dragged slowly by. 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 


287 


Beam heaved a sigh of relief as he peered out 
for perhaps the hundredth time. 

‘^It^s beginning to break at last.’^ 

Presently the twitter of a bird broke the still- 
ness, then another and another. 

‘‘Let me out of here. I feel as if I had been 
shut up in a drawer all night,’’ cried Tod, burst- 
ing out of the tent and filling his lungs with 
fresh air, while the others followed. 

Mr. Dawson looked pale and haggard, and 
Beam was thoughtful and subdued. 

“Shall I start breakfast now, or is it too 
early?” Tod asked. 

“Don’t bother to get any breakfast for me, 
I’m not hungry,” returned Mr. Dawson quietly 
as he started for the river bank. “I’m going 
over to God’s country just as soon as I can get 
there, and if you boys take my advice, you will do 
the same thing.” 

“We’ll pack up and get out of here to-day,” 
said Beam as they followed their guest down to 
the landing. 

“I’m sorry now that I asked you to stay all 
night, Mr. Dawson. If I hadn’t, you would 
have missed all that,” said Tod, nodding his head 
toward the tent. 

“I don’t blame you in the least, and thank 
both of you for your kindness. I would ask you 
over to my camp, but I shall pull up stakes to- 
day and leave. I confess that I am completely 
unnerved. I have traveled all over the world. 


288 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


but I never saw anything like that before. It 
was my fate, I suppose, that I should see it 
and be convinced.’^ He dropped wearily into 
the boat and bowed his head upon his hands a 
moment. 

^‘Hadn’t one of us better go over and help 
you pack up U ’ asked Beam sympathetically. 

‘ ^ Oh, no ! I will go over and get a little sleep 
and then pack up. The exercise of rowing will 
wear off some of this depression, I hope. When 
do you boys leave I” 

‘‘We’ll probably get away sometime this fore- 
noon, if we can get the duffle together by that 
time. ’ ’ 

“Well, good-bye. If we never meet again in 
this world, remember the few pleasant hours we 
have spent together,” and Mr. Dawson bent to 
the oars. 

“That man is nearly on the verge of a col- 
lapse and I’m almost afraid to let him go alone,” 
said Beam thoughtfully, as they walked back to 
the cabin to prepare breakfast. 

“He’s certainly badly shaken up, but the row 
will do him good. I’ll admit that I’m up a tree, 
myself. I’m hoping yet that I’ll wake up and 
find it all a dream,” said Tod as he started to 
build a fire, while Beam stood thoughtfully look- 
ing on. 

Presently he said: 

“Did you notice how pale He was? And his 


A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 289 

hand fairly shook when he took hold of the 
oars.’’ 

‘‘Yes, his face looked like ashes. He’s nat- 
urally of a light complexion and evidently hasn’t 
been out in the sun much lately.” 

“Poor fellow, I feel sorry for him. I’d like 
to know what father will say to that business last 
night.” 

‘ ‘ I know what he and Doc Hall both will say, ’ ’ 
returned Tod as he put on the bacon. “They’ll 
laugh and say we were both dreaming and it ’s all 
bosh.” 

“We know mighty well we weren’t dream- 
ing.” 

“Of course we do, but it’s another thing to con- 
vince two such old hard heads.” 

“Well, we’ll go up and tell them the whole 
thing and see what they have to say about it 
and what explanation they can make, anyhow,” 
said Beam as he walked out to the tent. 

Everything outside was just as it was the 
previous day; not a mark or print of anything 
on the ground or in the trees. Beam scrutinized 
the surroundings carefully and turned away with 
a shake of the head. He was completely non- 
plussed. 


CHAPTER XXI 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 

T O a person in robust health, breakfast is 
a great restorer of vitality. A cup of hot 
colfee does wonders to clear away the 
cobwebs from the mind. 

It acted so with Beam and Tod. After break- 
fast, they felt more like themselves and some 
of their old spirits came back. 

‘‘There, I feel a lot better,’’ Tod remarked as 
he drained his second cup. 

“So do I. But we’ll dig out of here to-day 
just the same. I couldn’t sleep here any more, 
after what happened last night. Every frog 
croak and owl hoot would put me on edge.” 

“Sure thing; no more of this for the under- 
signed. Soon as our breakfast settles we’ll be- 
gin to pack up. It won’t take more than an 
hour.” 

They strolled down to the river and sat upon 
the log. 

“Breakfast and the sunshine makes a fellow 
feel brave again,” said Tod. 

“Yes, especially when he knows he hasn’t got 
to stay here another night.” 

“I feel sorry for poor Mr. Dawson, he took 
290 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


291 


it to heart so much/’ Tod continued, gazing 
across the river where the little tent was hidden 
among the trees. 

‘‘So do I, and I’m almost tempted to go over 
and see how he is.” 

“Better let him rest. He’s probably trying to 
get some sleep.” 

“You see now where Dutch John’s lights come 
in.” 

Tod nodded. 

“Yes, no wonder they keep shy of this place, 
if they saw a tenth part of what we did.” 

Lack of rest and sleep made the boys dull and 
listless and they kept postponing the task of 
packing up. As Tod remarked: 

“If we get home any time to-day, it will do.” 
So they loafed and talked and examined the 
ground and trees around the tent again, for some 
evidence of the night’s disturbance, but in vain. 

It was after ten o’clock and they were talking 
of breaking camp, when a skiff appeared in sight, 
coming along down the island. 

“Wonder if it’s visitors? Callers want to 
hurry up if they are going to find anybody in this 
camp, ’ ’ Beam remarked with a grim smile. 

“Maybe it’s some of the boys from town.” 

“It’s Mr. Wrapp and Doc Minton; the men 
who were here last fall,” exclaimed Tod, as the 
boat drew nearer. 

“Think so?” 


292 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


sure of it/’ and Tod strained his eyes 
the harder. 

“Nice welcome we’ll have for them. Just go- 
ing to break camp,” growled Beam discontent- 
edly; “glad they didn’t come yesterday, though.” 

“If they’re down for a duck shoot, they’re too 
late. Had we better tell them about that busi- 
ness last night?” 

“I guess not. No use to worry and bother 
them with it; they’re out for a vacation. Just 
tell them we have decided to break camp and 
go home, and the ducks have mostly gone north. ’ ’ 

By this time the boat was near enough to see 
that Tod’s guess was right, and shortly after 
they were hailed by Mr. Wrapp’s cheery voice: 

“Hello, Beam and Tod. I see you are both 
here yet.” 

The fact of being saluted familiarly by their 
Christian names naturally warmed their hearts, 
and Beam responded cordially: 

“Yes, sir; although we are thinking of pulling 
up stakes to-day.” 

“Pshaw! Going to quit, eh? Well, we will 
land and eat our lunch with you anyhow, and 
talk over old times,” as the boat grated on the 
sand. 

“Did you come down for a duck shoot?” asked 
Tod as they stepped out and shook hands all 
around. 

“Well, no. Doc here doesn’t believe much in 
shooting ducks in the spring. In fact he is ‘ agin 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


293 


it.’ But we brought our fish rods. We are out 
for a little row and thought we would see if you 
boys were here yet. How are you both, any- 
how? Beam is strong as a panther, I suppose, 
by this time. Doc, I tell you there ’s nothing like 
camping out,” said Mr. Wrapp, beaming upon 
the boys. 

“Camping out is certainly an excellent tonic. 
The only objection here is the lowness of the 
ground, which is generally accompanied by exces- 
sive moisture along water courses. However, 
the moisture hasn’t seemed to interfere with the 
recovery of our young friend here,” said the 
sedate doctor, smiling upon Beam. 

‘ ^ Sorry we are going to leave just as you gen- 
tlemen come. Tod and I were in hopes you 
would stay a week next time.” 

“As it happens, we couldn’t stay anyhow; so 
it is just as well you are going home. We will 
eat our lunch together, chat a while, then we will 
pull out and look for some fish,” said Mr. Wrapp 
as he went to the boat and brought out a basket 
of lunch. 

“Let’s adjourn back under the trees by the 
cabin,” suggested Beam; “this sun is warm.” 
And he led the way from shore. 

Five minutes later they were comfortably 
seated under the trees and the boys had forgotten 
their recent experience under the magic of Mr. 
Wrapp ’s genial presence. 

“By the way, boys,” he said presently, “I have 


294 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


a confession to make. We are on a vacation, 
it is true; but instead of being traveling men, 
we are detectives. I didn’t tell you last fall as 
you were strangers, but the more I see of you 
the more I am convinced you can be trusted. 
Just be good enough not to say anything about 
it when you get home, as we don’t care to be 
known in that capacity at present. Here is my 
badge,” and he opened his coat and showed a 
star. 

Both Beam and Tod were greatly astonished 
and secretly pleased to hear this. They prom- 
ised compliance with his wishes, and soon Mr. 
Wrapp had launched out upon a story to willing 
listeners. 

An hour later when he was in the middle of 
another story. Tod said: 

‘‘Who are these fellows coming?” 

All looked toward the river and saw two men 
step up the bank. 

“A couple of farmers probably from the Illi- 
nois side,” said Beam indifferently, noting the 
dress of the men; “go on with your story, Mr. 
Wrapp.” 

“Better wait and see what they want,” re- 
turned the latter, quietly. 

“Probably want to know if they can get a mess 
of catfish,” Tod snorted, impatient to have the 
story going again. 

The two men were roughly dressed in flannel 
shirts, heavy boots, etc., and as they came up, the 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


295 


four arose as by one accord to meet them, and Mr. 
Wrapp reached for his handkerchief, apparently. 

‘‘None of that, Duffy; throw up your hands, 
both of you, and be quick about it.^’ The taller 
“farmer^’ spoke these words quietly but crisply, 
and to Beam^s and Tod^s utter astonishment and 
consternation, two long black revolvers were 
pointed at their guests. 

That a terrible mistake was being made by 
somebody, both were certain, and Beam cried out 
anxiously : 

“Hold on! Those men are detectives.’^ 

“I can’t help what they are, we want them.” 

The stranger turned his head slightly toward 
Beam as he spoke, and in that brief instant, quick 
as a flash, Wrapp and Minton hurled themselves 
like tigers upon the two men, the former crying : 

“It’s a hold up, boys. Help us!” 

There was no chance for “gun play” at such 
close quarters. It was a rough and tumble fight 
where every ounce of muscle and wit counted. 

Half involuntarily Beam started toward the 
struggling men, when he caught the gleam of a 
star on Wrapp ’s antagonist. 

He stopped in astonishment. 

Were two sets of officers fighting each other 
unknowingly? It looked that way. Motionless, 
he watched the battle, as if fascinated. 

The men were locked in each other’s arms, 
gripping and swaying, each trying to trip his 
antagonist and hurl him to the ground. 


296 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


Suddenly Dr. Minton threw his man and fell 
heavily upon him. Clutching his adversary by 
the throat with one hand, he quickly freed the 
other. An instant later a knife gleamed in the 
air and he hissed: 

^‘Damn you, Gray! This is the last time you 
ever cross my path.’’ 

Ere the knife could descend. Beam made one 
bound and caught the uplifted wrist with both 
hands, grown strong with months of rowing. 

‘‘Let go my arm, you country whelp 1” What 
a change in that even, quiet voice I It was like 
the snarl of a wolf. 

“Come here. Tod, quick. Do you want to see 
a man murdered ? ’ ’ Beam ’s grasp on the frantic 
man’s wrist tightened as he spoke. 

But at that instant there came the sound of 
running feet and two men dashed out of the 
bushes from the west side of the island. One 
of them, a large, powerful man, tore the knife 
from the uplifted hand, then seizing Dr. Minton, 
hurled him upon the ground as if he had been a 
child and despite his struggles snapped hand- 
cuffs upon his wrists. 

The other man seized Mr. Wrapp around the 
neck in a strangle hold and with the assistance 
of the latter’s antagonist, soon had him on the 
ground and decorated with “bracelets.” 

The four newcomers arose to their feet and the 
one who had demanded the surrender of the two 
men said, as he breathed heavily from the tussle ; 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 297 

Sorry to interrupt your picnic, boys, but busi- 
ness is business/’ 

Something in the tone of his voice sounded 
familiar to Beam and he looked at him curiously. 

The latter noticed the look and laughed as he 
jerked off a false whisker: 

‘^Now do you know me?” 

^‘Mr. Johnson!” 

‘‘Good guess. Don’t I make a pretty average 
looking farmer?” 

“Yes. But I would like to know the meaning 
of all this, ’ ’ Beam replied in perplexity. 

“I’ll explain everything later. In the mean- 
time, we have more work to do. Purvey, you 
and Gray take these men uptown. You have 
time enough and they are safer there than here. 
Come on, Gabe; no use to sulk over a bad bar- 
gain,” and he walked over to Dr. Minton and 
took him by the shoulder. 

The latter got upon his feet with a scowl of 
hate, and was led down to the river, followed by 
his partner, who had drawn into his shell like a 
clam. 

It is not a pleasant sight to see a hypocrite un- 
masked and Beam and Tod were both relieved 
when their late guests were securely chained in 
the boat and the two detectives designated by Mr. 
Johnson had stepped in and taken the oars. 

The little group on the bank watched the boat 
until it was well up the stream, then Mr. John- 
son said to his companion: 


298 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


^^They ought to be back before supper time, 
Dickson. ’ ’ 

‘^Yes, they ought to make it by that time if 
they have no bad luck,’’ was the reply as they 
walked back to camp. 

‘‘If they are just coming back after you two, 
you might have saved them the trouble by going 
up in our boat and then sending down by a boy, ’ ’ 
Beam said. 

“Oh, we have another boat on the west side 
of the island. They are coming back for busi- 
ness. We are not through with your island yet, ’ ’ 
Mr. Johnson replied with a short laugh. 

“I would like to know something about this 
affair,” said Beam in a perplexed way as they 
dropped on the ground by the tent. “I know you 
must be all right, as father said so, but we sup- 
posed those other men to be all right, too. They 
were down here last fall and stayed over night 
with us. They seemed to be perfect gentlemen 
and never offered to molest us in any way.” 

“They were down here for a purpose. Did 
you sleep pretty well that night ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir. I remember we slept like a couple 
of logs and woke up with a headache in the morn- 
ing.” 

Tod suddenly slapped his leg as a thought 
flashed through his head, and said: “By 
Ginger ! ” 

Mr. Johnson smiled. 

“Good guess. Tod; you were doped all right.” 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


299 


i 


explains it. Who are they, anyhow U’ 
asked Beam, looking very much disgusted. 

^ ‘ They belong to a gang of thieves that we have 
been trailing down for two years. We have 
pinched them, all but two, in the last twenty-four 
hours, and I hope to get those two on this island 
to-night, if they donT get wind of the deal and 
our plans miscarry.” 

Beam and Tod pricked up their ears and the 
latter said: 

‘^How are you going to get them here!” 

‘‘Wedl show you. Going to have a little fam- 
ily party.” 

Mr. Johnson ^s lips compressed grimly. 

Suddenly the events of the previous night, 
which had been driven from his mind, flashed 
upon Beam and he said: 

^^By the way, something happened here last 
night that I wish you men would try to explain. 
It nearly made Tod and me gray headed. ’ ’ 

‘‘What was it!” queried Mr. Johnson curi- 
ously. 

“Why, we got acquainted with a gentleman 
who is camping over on the Illinois side. Name 
is Dawson. Yesterday afternoon he came over to 
pay us a visit. He has been all over the world 
and Tod and I kept him telling stories of his trav- 
els until evening. Then we persuaded him to 
have supper with us and, finally, to stay all 
night. But Ifll warrant he’ll never stay on this 
island over night again, ’ ’ and Beam proceeded to 


300 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


give a minute account of what they had seen and 
heard. 

‘‘What kind of a looking man was this Daw- 
son asked Mr. Johnson with a queer look. 

“Medium size, very fair complexion, and 
brown hair a little sprinkled with gray. ’ ’ 

The detective looked at his companion with a 
short laugh, and the latter said: 

“Aunt Jane and Gabe treated the boys to some 
theatricals all right.’’ 

“Who is ‘Aunt Jane’?” Beam queried wonder- 
ingly. 

“Aunt Jane is another crook, and Gabe Cary’s 
particular partner; has been for years. On ac- 
count of his fair complexion, he sometimes poses 
as a woman, and has acquired the nickname of 
‘Aunt Jane’ among detectives and crooks. He is 
one of the best ventriloquists and sleight of hand 
performers in the country. They didn’t want 
you camping on this island, so they put up a job 
on you. That’s the size of it. Now do you be- 
gin to smell a mouse?” 

Beam was too much astonished and disgusted 
to reply. He turned and looked at Tod. 

The latter met the look unflinchingly, and said 
calmly : 

“Oh, you needn’t look at me in such an injured 
way. You’re the boss of this camp and this is 
your island. I’m only a trained nurse.” 

Beam continued to gaze at him in silence, get- 
ting madder and more disgusted every moment, 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


301 


as he saw how they had been duped. Finally he 
said: 

^‘Well, for first class soft heads and greenies, 
you and I are certainly gifted above the sons of 
men. Why didn T we have sense enough to know 
there couldn’t be any such foolishness as they 
went through with?” 

Then he turned to Mr. Johnson. 

‘‘Won’t that man Dawson take the alarm and 
make his escape, if he sees any commotion over 
here on the island?” 

The detective smiled. 

“He is in a cell uptown, by this time. We 
knew where he was. I sent two of my men over 
to his camp this forenoon to nab him. I saw 
them going up the other shore with him, just 
before we landed here. We have been piping 
off these two fellows all the morning. We knew 
they would show up at your camp sometime 
to-day, as they are due to be on the island to- 
night.” 

“I thought they didn’t act very much disap- 
pointed when we told them we were going to leave 
to-day.” 

“No, that’s what they wanted. Saved them 
the trouble of watching you.” 

“Have they a den on this island?” asked Tod. 

“Yes. I never have seen it, but I hope to to- 
night.” 

At these words Beam and Tod pricked up their 
ears, and the latter remarked : 


302 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘^Gee, that sounds business-like/’ 

‘‘Where is the den?” asked Beam. 

“In one of the mounds at the upper end.” 

Then Beam thought of the strange lights he 
had seen there, and nudged Tod. 

“Looks as if Dutch John and I had reason 
to be a little suspicious, after all; eh?” 

“Yes. Looks as if the laugh might be on the 
rest of us.” 

“How in the world do you detectives get on 
to all these things?” asked Beam with native 
curiosity. 

“Oh, hundreds of ways. In this case, one of 
the gang confessed. Do you remember that Mr. 
Craven whom I had down here duck-shooting?” 
Beam nodded, while Tod’s eyes and mouth 
opened. 

“Well, he is the man. It’s too long a story 
to tell you here, but I was instrumental in his 
getting religion and thereby seeing the error of 
his ways, and he was so thoroughly changed and 
made over, as it were, that he confessed every- 
thing to me. He proposes to dedicate the bal- 
ance of his life to the cause of reclaiming crim- 
inals. He is evidently sincere in the matter and 
I hope he may do some good.” 

Tod drew a long breath of relief. 

“Then he won’t have to go to prison?” 

“Oh, no. It was through him that I learned 
of the den on this island.” 

“I’m awful glad of that. He was such a good 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


303 


duck shot,^’ said Tod in a heartfelt way that 
raised a smile. 

‘^This den/’ continued Mr. Johnson, ‘Hs only 
one of several places that the gang had for stor- 
ing stolen goods. I didn’t know about this spot 
until last summer. By the way, what names did 
these two fellows give you?” 

‘ ‘ The one with the brown mustache called him- 
self Mr. Wrapp and the other one. Dr. Minton.” 

‘ ‘ Come to think, Cary did practice medicine in 
his younger days,” said Mr. Johnson, turning to 
his companion. 

^^Yes, he practiced a number of years out west 
somewhere. He got into a scrape and had to 
leave in two days and since then he has been a 
professional crook.” 

Then Beam remembered the small, strange man 
and his warning, and said : 

^‘Did father tell you about the man that died on 
the island in our cabin, after he had tried to shoot 
Tod and me?” 

^‘No, I haven’t seen your father since last fall. 
Tell me about it,” replied Mr. Johnson, looking 
interested. 

Then Beam told of the stranger and his warn- 
ing; of his return in the wild storm; of his de- 
lirium and sudden death. 

Both of the detectives listened with close inter- 
est, and when Beam had concluded, Mr. Johnson 
said: 

^‘Did he have a livid scar on his cheek?” 


304 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

''Yes.’’ 

"I know of him, although I never saw him. 
He joined the gang in another part of the coun- 
try. But they soon found he was a weak sister 
and tried to shake him. I don’t know why they 
didn’t kill him. He was a crack-brained sort of 
a fellow that they couldn’t depend upon. He 
never knew the exact location of this joint, 
although he had an inkling of it. His name was 
La Moile.” 

' ' One of the hoys told me that Gabe Cary tried 
to shoot La Moile once, out in Omaha,” put in 
Dickson, "but he was too quick and got away be- 
fore Cary could get his gun in action.” 

"He was quick on the trigger that night, I 
know, ’ ’ said Beam with a shudder, as he thought 
of Tod’s narrow escape. 

For over an hour they sat and talked under the 
trees, then Mr. Johnson proposed that they go 
to the upper end of the island and look over 
the ground. 

"Hadn’t we better have a bite to eat first?” 
Tod suggested. "Those two genial detective 
friends of ours brought a basket of lunch. We 
might eat it and save me the trouble of getting 
some. ’ ’ 

"Good idea, Tod,” laughed Mr. Johnson; 
"we’ll get something out of them, anyhow. 
Open the basket and see what they eat.” 

"They know how to pick out a lunch,” said 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 305 

Tod as he fished out sandwiches, pickles, cheese, 
sardines, cake, pie, and other good things. 

Yes, I’m afraid it’s better than they will get 
from this time on,” replied Mr. Johnson with a 
dry laugh, as they all helped themselves to the 
goodies. 

After they had cleaned up the lunch, the de- 
tectives lighted cigars and the four started for 
the north end of the island. As they walked 
along, Mr. Johnson carefully noted the path, 
trees and underbrush. 

When they stood at the foot of the largest 
mound, he said: 

‘ ^ Craven said it was in here. The entrance is 
on this sloping side, I believe, but we won’t dis- 
turb anything now. We shall know to-night for 
certain, I hope. ’ ’ 

It was well along in the afternoon when they 
returned to the camp, and Tod soon after began 
to prepare supper. 

“You won’t get a very elegant spread, gentle- 
men, and there are mighty few dishes.” 

“Oh, anything goes, out in the woods, Tod,” 
laughed Mr. Johnson. 

“We can eat on our knees, if necessary,” put 
in Dickson. 

“That’s the way to talk. You look like that 
kind of men,” said Tod, bustling about his work. 

“So our friend Mr. Dawson is a crook, too,” 
Beam remarked thoughtfully, as he watched Tod 


306 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


flying about. ‘‘Well, be tells a good story, any- 
how, and Beam gave a sigh of regret. 

‘ ‘ They were probably made up on the spur of 
the moment. He was never across the ocean in 
his life. We have his record way back.’^ 

‘ ‘ And we thought he was all unstrung. ’ ’ Beam 
laughed and glanced at Tod, but that person was 
apparently too busy just then to pay attention^ 

“Charge it up to experience, my boy. ThaUs 
the way we learn things that we donT forget in 
a hurry.’’ 

“Is Dawson his real name?” 

“No. His name is Bill Cass. Every detective 
in the country knows him, or knows of him. ’ ’ 

“He’s been mixed up with crooks all his life,’^ 
put in Dickson. 

“Do you suppose that fellow you call ‘Gabe’ 
was outside, furnishing the fireworks?” Tod 
asked, pausing in his work. 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

“Makes me feel mighty silly, to be taken in 
so easily,” said Beam with a look of chagrin. 

‘ ‘ Go down and brighten up your intellect with 
river water,” called Tod; “supper will be ready 
in a minute.” 

“Let’s go too, Dickson,” and the trio went out 
to make their toilet. 

They were eating when Purvey and Gray re- 
turned. 

“Did White and Whalen get ‘Aunt Jane’?” 
called Mr. Johnson. 


ANOTHER SURPRISE 


307 


‘‘Yes, he’s snug and safe.” 

“Then come and get some of Tod’s delicious 
bacon, eggs, and catfish.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE LAST OF A GANG 

^ 4 ^ I HAT menu strikes me pleasantly and 
I rowing makes a fellow hungry,’^ was 
M the response as Purvey and his col- 
league seated themselves and proceeded to do 
justice to Tod’s cooking. 

The meal was eaten in silence, each of the four 
detectives being busy with his own thoughts on 
the coming work. 

When the meal was over, Mr. Johnson said as 
he arose from the table: 

‘‘Now boys, let’s go up and arrange our 
plans.” And the four men walked up through 
the woods, while Beam and Tod cleared up the 
supper dishes and with suppressed excitement 
talked over the momentous affair that was to 
take place during the coming night. 

“Those fellows don’t seem to be a bit worried 
about getting shot or stabbed,” said Tod, nod- 
ding his head in the direction the men had gone. 

“No, they’re cool as a lot of cucumbers. I 
suppose, like soldiers, they get so used to taking 
their lives in their hands that they think nothing 
of it.” 


308 


THE LAST OE A GANG 309 

‘‘Wonder if they’ll want ns to help?” Tod said 
and shuffled about with nervous eagerness. 

“I don’t know. I hope so.” 

“So do I,” Tod burst out, slamming the dish- 
pan over in the corner. “I’m just aching to be 
right in it.” 

“We’ll know when they come back.” 

It was after sundown when the detectives re- 
turned. They seated themselves under the 
trees, Mr. Johnson produced some cigars, and 
they were soon smoking and talking as calmly as 
though on a pleasure trip. But under that calm- 
ness and apparent indifference there was a cer- 
tain air of alertness and expectancy which 
showed they realized the work before them and 
were ready to meet it. 

The boys were on nettles to know what was 
expected of them, and presently Beam asked: 

‘ ‘ Can we be of any assistance to you to-night ? ’ ’ 

Mr. Johnson smoked meditatively a moment. 

“I don’t know. We have men enough to take 
care of them, I guess. Anything the boys can 
do ? ” this to his men. 

Mr. Purvey looked at the two eager faces 
calmly and critically for a moment, and then blew 
out a long spiral of blue smoke. 

“How’s your nerve?” 

“The tall lad had nerve enough to jump and 
grab Gabe Cary’s arm when the critter was about 
to shove a knife into me,” Gray remarked qui- 
etly. 


310 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 

‘‘They’re both quick on the trigger when it 
comes to shooting ducks, J can vouch for that, ’ ’ 
laughed Mr. Johnson. 

“How would it do to let them watch the boat?” 
asked Purvey, turning to his chief, for Johnson 
was evidently leader of the expedition. 

“Good idea,” the latter nodded, approvingly; 
“one of them may give us the slip in the scrim- 
mage, and he would naturally make a break for 
the boat. You don’t want to kill anybody, I 
take it, so just take your shotguns and stay in 
hiding along the bank. If the parties come, they 
will probably land about opposite the mounds. 

“You are both to stay right there and watch 
that boat. We will be over at the mounds to 
receive them. As I said, if one of them should 
get away from us he will probably make a run for 
the boat. In that case, you are to tear two or 
three good sized holes in that boat with your 
shotguns. Fix it so it can’t be used for the 
present.” 

“Can you shoot straight in the dark, boys?” 
asked Purvey. 

“I’ve killed ducks when it was so dark I 
couldn ’t see the rib of my gun, and so has Tod, ’ ’ 
replied Beam quietly. 

“The moon rises about twelve-thirty and they 
will probably come before that,” Mr. Johnson 
remarked. “I have inside information that they 
will be here between eleven and twelve, if some- 
thing doesn’t occur to delay them, of course. If 


THE LAST OF A GANG 311 

anybocij wants to take a little nap, now is the 
time,^’ he added. 

‘‘Go in the tent and lie on onr bed,^’ said 
Beam. 

“Come on, Gray, we didn’t get mnch sleep last 
night.” Purvey yawned as he spoke. 

Ten minutes later they were rolled up in the 
boys’ blankets. 

The other two detectives talked and smoked, 
while Beam and Tod listened with eager interest. 

About ten-thirty Mr. Johnson awoke the two 
men and preparations were made for the work 
before them. 

Shortly after eleven o’clock everything was 
ready and the entire party started up the island. 
The detectives had located the positions of each 
on their previous visit, and when each had taken 
his stand, Mr. Johnson walked to the river bank 
with the boys. 

“Now be still as mice here among the trees. 
If a boat lands don’t make a move or a sound. 
The occupants will come over to the mounds. 
There will be nothing for you to do unless, as I 
told you, one of them gets away from us. Then 
obey instructions. I am going down toward the 
cabin now. You will probably hear some owl 
hooting after a bit, but don’t wonder at it. It’s 
part of the programme. Be watchful and silent 
and don’t lose your heads,” was his parting word 
as he disappeared in the woods. 

It was a new role for Beam and Tod and every 


312 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


nerve was tense as a fiddle string. Seating 
themselves in a little clump of bushes, their guns 
across their laps, they waited. 

How slowly the minutes dragged along ! The 
stars twinkled brightly in the warm spring air 
and no sounds disturbed the solitude of night but 
the never ending chorus of frogs. It seemed to 
Tod that it must be almost morning, when — 

^^Sh — said Beam and laid a warning hand 
on his arm, for his quick ear had caught an in- 
distinct sound out on the river. 

A long wait followed, at least it seemed long to 
them, then Beam whispered softly: 

Guess it wasnT anything after all.^^ 

‘H^m betting they don^t show up,’' Tod an- 
swered just as softly. 

Can’t tell; we’ll do. our part, anyhow.” 

Presently Tod whispered as a faint, white 
glow gradually spread over the east: 

/‘The moon is rising.” 

‘ ‘ Listen ! ’ ’ 

Beam clutched his arm with a grip of steel, 
for a boat was rapidly approaching on noiseless 
oars. 

It touched the shore within twenty feet of them 
and two men stepped out, silent as phantoms. 

In the still air, the boys heard one of them say 
in a low tone : 

“We’re late on account of that cursed sand- 
bar. Hurry up and give Duffy the signal.” 

“Nothing to fear there. Duffy has them 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


313 


asleep, yon can gamble,’’ and with that, the other 
man picked np two bundles and walked up the 
bank. He passed within five feet of the young 
listeners and Tod feared the beating of his heart 
would betray them. 

The other man brushed by, bearing a load of 
something, they could not tell what. 

Then out in the woods they heard the hoot of 
an owl. It was a good imitation, but it did not 
deceive the trained ears of the young watchers. 

A moment later and down in the island they 
heard an answering call. Then all was quiet 
again. 

Not daring even to whisper to each other, the 
boys waited breathlessly. It seemed to Tod in 
his anxiety that he must do something — ^yell, 
shoot, or anything that would let off some of the 
bottled-up steam. But he held himself together 
and listened. 

The detectives were there; why wasn’t some- 
thing being done ? 

Beam twisted around and looked toward the 
mounds. He saw a light shine for a few seconds 
and then go out. Presently he heard a sound 
as if a door was being shut softly ; the sound he 
had heard in the canoe months before. 

Then came sounds that caused each to clutch 
his gun tighter — sounds of a struggle — of oaths 
and blows and curses. Then came two reports of 
a revolver, followed by a heavy fall. 

‘‘Somebody’s killed,” whispered Tod, fairly 


314 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


boiling with excitement, hadn’t we better go 
and helpU’ 

‘‘No, Johnson put us here to watch this boat. 
One or both of them may come tearing back here 
any minute, ’ ’ replied Beam, who was much cooler 
than his companion. 

‘ ‘ That ’s so. I forgot all about the boat. ’ ’ Tod 
cast a glance down at the skiff, gradually show- 
ing more plainly in the slowly brightening rays of 
the rising moon. 

“I don’t hear any more racket, I guess they’ve 
got them, ’ ’ whispered Beam, listening intently. 

As he spoke, there came the sound of footsteps 
and rustling leaves, and the safeties on both guns 
were quietly slipped ready for business. 

A moment later Mr. Johnson’s voice said with 
a ring of triumph : 

“All right, boys ; we’ve got them safe. Is the 
boat here?” 

“Yes, sir. It’s right down here below us,” 
Beam replied as they rose to meet him. 

“I wonder if there’s anything else in it?” said 
Mr. Johnson as he walked down the bank and 
flashed the rays of his bull’s-eye lantern over the 
boat. 

“Here’s something. It may be a bomb or a 
bottle of whiskey,” and he focused the rays of 
his lantern on the object and gingerly picked it 
up. 

“The latter, of course,” he chuckled, reading 
the words, “Old Rye. Bottled in bond,” and 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


315 


adding, ^‘That’s all. You boys may take this 
boat down to your landing, and we will take the 
prisoners down through the woods. It’s getting 
lighter every minute.” 

‘‘Was anybody shot!” asked Tod anxiously. 

“No, but it was a mighty close call. The first 
bullet went through my hat, just grazing my 
head. Then Gray knocked the gun up and the 
next one went wild. It burns a little yet,” said 
Mr. J ohnson, as he removed his hat and ran his 
fingers lightly over his head. 

Tod shivered and looked wonderingly at the 
man who had missed death by a hair’s breadth 
and could speak so calmly and unconcernedly of 
the atfair. 

“Did you find their den!” Beam asked. 

“Yes, we let them open it before we pinched 
them. It’s just a sort of a cellar excavated un- 
der the largest mound. We haven’t examined it 
very thoroughly. Time enough for that to-mor- 
row when we have more light. ’ ’ 

At that moment Purvey appeared in the moon- 
light and said: 

“Gray suggests taking those fellows up to jail 
to-night. He says two of us will have to guard 
them, anyhow, and we may just as well put in the 
time rowing.” 

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea. But 
the three of you better go if the boat is large 
enough ; two pairs of oars and one man to guard 
the prisoners.” 


316 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Let them take our boat. It will hold six or 
seven comfortably/’ said Beam. 

“That will be just the thing. They will be 
back before breakfast time,” Mr. Johnson nodded 
approvingly. 

This plan was carried out. Beam and Tod 
rowed the prisoners’ boat down to the landing 
in the moonlight, while the detectives took their 
men down the island. 

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea for one of your 
men to tell father and have him come down and 
see this den f ’ ’ Beam suggested, as the prisoners 
were placed in his big boat. 

• “Yes, it would,” Johnson agreed and spoke a 
few words to Purvey, who nodded as he stepped 
aboard. In a moment they were on their way 
up the river, their dripping oars flashing in the 
moonlight. 

“You boys get some sleep and I’ll patrol the 
island until daylight, ’ ’ the detective said to Beam 
and Tod. 

‘ ‘ Why should you do that f Do you expect any 
moreU’ queried Tod. 

“No, but it’s always best to be on the safe 
side. It only lacks a couple of hours till day- 
break. We’ve made a clean job of this so far 
and I don’t want any slips.” 

“Call me at daylight,” said Beam, as he and 
Tod went into the tent. 

“It strikes me we’ve got into a queer mixup 
down here, ’ ’ Tod remarked, as he threw himself 


THE LAST OF A GANG 317 

on the blankets. ‘‘Wonder what will show up 
next ? ^ ’ 

“I rather think we are coming to the end of it. 
Looks as if we had been living on top of a vol- 
cano without knowing it.’’ 

“Say, but a detective has a strenuous life of 
it; up all hours of the night and liable to be 
killed any minute; shucks, I’m not a bit sleepy,” 
Tod muttered, turning over restlessly. 

“Neither am I, but we can put in the time 
chatting.” 

However, after a time they both fell asleep 
and it was after sunrise when Beam awoke, with 
Tod still snoring. 

Beam went outside, to find “Dutch” John 
talking with Mr. Johnson. 

“Hello, Beamy. You alife yet already?” and 
a grin widened the broad face. 

“Yes, I’m living,” returned Beam good-na- 
turedly. “Is everything all right, Mr. J ohnson ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, haven’t seen a thing.” 

“Vat you tink of my light now, eh? ” came with 
a triumphant smile from John. 

“I guess you saw straight, John,” Beam ad- 
mitted as he went back to arouse Tod. 

Shortly after, the latter emerged gaping and 
stretching ; hut a dash of cold river water drove 
the sleep from his eyes and he began preparing 
breakfast. In due time it was ready, and Beam, 
knowing how his German friend loved fried cat- 
fish, insisted upon his sharing the meal. Need- 


318 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


less to say, nmch urging was not necessary in or- 
der to get him to partake of the fish. 

After breakfast Tod went down to the landing 
and soon came hurrying back with the news that 
the detectives were in sight. 

‘‘There’s father and Doc Hall both in the 
stern, ’ ’ cried Beam as the boat drew nearer. 

‘ ‘ That ’s so. Pretty early for such old birds to 
be out on the river so far from home,” Tod 
rejoined. 

“Duck Island, ahoy!” called Doctor Hall as 
the boat drew in at the landing. 

“Ahoy, your own self! And there is my pa- 
ternal parent,” cried Beam, hurrying joyfully 
down to the landing. 

A moment later they were out of the boat and 
Beam had grasped his father ’s hand in a firm, 
heartfelt grip for the first time in many a long 
day. 

Holding Beam off at arm’s length. Doctor Hall 
turned to his old friend : 

“What do you think of him now. Hi! Looks 
like a different boy, doesn’t he!” 

Hiram Foster, as we know, was not demon- 
strative, but his rugged features softened as he 
looked at his boy, tall and stalwart, with the dark 
tan of health on his cheeks. 

“Yes, there seems to be method in your her- 
esy, Al. This will do his mother a world of 
good.” 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


319 


does me a world of good, too,’’ said the 
bluff old doctor, slapping Beam familiarly on the 
back. 

‘‘Any of you gentlemen been to breakfast?” 
Tod called from the bank. 

“No, we want to sample a Duck Island break- 
fast,” was the doctor’s rejoinder. 

“All right. It’s catfish and river water, this 
morning. We’ll be ready for the second table 
in a few minutes,” said Tod, hurrying back to 
the cabin. 

The party filed into camp and Doctor Hall took 
a peep in the tent the first thing. 

“Did you sleep here every night during the 
winter, Beam?” 

“Yes, sir, every single night, warm or cold.” 

“That’s what helped bring him out. Hi,” and 
the doctor’s face beamed with satisfaction. 

Tod’s fish breakfast was discussed and praised 
by the late hungry arrivals, and when it was 
over Mr. Johnson said: 

“Come on now, and let’s examine that den 
thoroughly. ’ ’ 

“You say it is in one of those Indian mounds?” 
Beam’s father remarked as the party started up 
the island. 

“Yes, I’ll show you in a few minutes.” 

Arriving at their destination, Mr. Johnson 
said: 

“We were in here a few moments last night. 


320 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


We let the parties open it before we nabbed them. 
Afterwards we closed it up again. See any- 
thing suspicious r’ 

confess I don’t/’ Doctor Hall answered in 
a perplexed way. 

The detective walked half-way up the slope 
of the largest mound and stood on a blanket of 
small stones and pebbles. Then he stooped over 
where the innocent looking layer of pebbles 
seemed thickest, and inserted his fingers among 
them. 

Presently he found what he was feeling for and 
gave a jerk. An iron bail, like the bail of a big 
soap kettle, rounded up in view. He braced his 
legs wide apart, took hold of the bail with both 
hands and pulled. 

‘^Want any help!” asked Purvey. 

Mr. Johnson shook his head, and a dummy 
sheet-iron box, filled mostly with leaves, was 
lifted out, disclosing some rough steps leading 
down under the mound. At the bottom of the 
steps was a door. 

Mr. Johnson went down and inserting a key 
in the lock, opened the door and said : 

‘‘Come in, everybody, and bring your lan- 
terns,” and two minutes later the entire party, 
including “Dutch” John, was down under the big 
mound where once had reposed the bones of In- 
dian braves. 

The room was perhaps ten feet square and 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


321 


high as a tall man. A number of chairs were 
scattered about, a short bench, and a table. In 
one corner of the room was a sort of sideboard 
or cupboard. Mr. Johnson walked over to it 
and opened the door. On the shelves within re- 
posed dozens of boxes of fine cigars, many bot- 
tles of choice wines and liquors, and several 
packs of cards. 

‘‘Those fellows were evidently high livers, but 
if they didn’t steal anything besides this stuff, 
it wasn’t much loss to humanity,” remarked 
Doctor Hall dryly. 

Mr. Johnson smiled and walked to the rear 
part of the room. He inserted a key in a small 
hole in the woodwork, turned it, and opened a 
section of the wall the size of a door. 

Exclamations of astonishment were heard as 
the lanterns revealed the contents of the inner 
room. 

Silks, velvets, holts of cloth, and costly fabrics 
of every description filled the room. Closer in- 
spection revealed gold and silver articles of 
many kinds — knives, forks, spoons, snuff-boxes, 
watches, bracelets, chains, and so forth, all 
wrapped in tissue paper to prevent destruction 
by dampness. 

“Well, well ! we might almost imagine we were 
back in the time of the Arabian Nights,” said 
Doctor Hall in great astonishment, “but why 
didn’t they use a cave in the bluffs?” 


322 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘Because here is the last place anybody would 
ever think of looking for a hiding-place for stolen 
goods/’ replied the detective. 

“You see, this gang didn’t originate the den,” 
said detective Purvey. “It was made and used 
by one of the old time gangs that infested the 
river years ago. ’ ’ 

Mr. Johnson nodded. 

“That’s the way of it. The secret of the place 
was handed down in some way to this later band, 
and they have made use of it, as you see. ’ ’ 

“Py Chiminy,” broke out “Dutch” John in 
amazement, “there vas almost enough stutf to 
start a store mit, still yet.” 

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t buy many of these 
kind of goods, John,” said Mr. Foster with a 
smile, turning to the old farmer. 

“No, I tink not. Dis truck too rich for my old 
vomans,” was the grinning reply. 

“This is your island, Mr. Foster,” said John- 
son, “but we propose to have this den dug out 
and filled up and the goods taken away.” 

“Certainly, that’s the only thing to do. Make 
a clean job of it this time. As for the goods and 
valuables, I don’t know whether there is a law or 
not to cover the case, if you can’t find the right 
owners. Anyhow, I wouldn’t touch a dollar of 
the proceeds even if the law should allow it to 
me on account of my ownership of the land. It 
is all the fruit of men’s toil that has been stolen 
from them by these rascals.” 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


323 


“We can find the owners of at least part of the 
stuff, I know. Meanwhile, we will get a force of 
men and dig out this mound and check off the 
goods and pack them away for future disposal, ’ ’ 
said Mr. J ohnson, carefully locking the doors as 
the party moved out into the sunlight. 

“Veil, Peamy, you purty lucky, I tink, not to 
be kilt by dem fellers,’’ said Mr. Meister as they 
were returning to camp. 

‘ ‘ Oh, I don’t know. I guess they don’t do any 
more killing than they can help.” 

“That’s right,” added Mr. Poster, who had 
overheard; “all the same, if I had known before 
that Johnson’s thieves were on the island, I 
should have called you back.” 

“We’re glad you didn’t know,” cried Tod. 
‘ ‘ Shall we begin to pack up ? ” 

“Yes, we may as well break camp now as any 
time.” 

Arriving at the cabin, the chief of detectives 
said; 

“Mr. Foster, you are acquainted with every- 
body in your town. Will you send down about 
a dozen good men with shovels, picks and axes 1 
And send down some public official to help make 
a list of the things. We want to have this deal 
open and above board.” 

“Yes, gladly. And I’ll get the mayor, Charlie 
Gerts, to come down and help superintend 
things,” returned Mr. Poster. 

“ Thanks. That will be all right. Purvey, you 


324 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


and Gray go up and bring tbe men down. Dick- 
son and I will remain here and keep camp and 
watch things. 

‘‘Tod and I are going to break up housekeep- 
ing to-day. But you are welcome to use the 
cabin, and the tent also if you wish, ^ ’ said Beam. 

“Ah; is that so? Going back to civilization, 
eh? Well, I don^t know how long we will be on 
this job, but we shall be glad to avail ourselves 
of your offer, and bring up the tent and blankets 
when we come,’’ returned Mr. Johnson cordially. 

‘ ‘ It will help us out some, too, ’ ’ chimed in Tod 
with a laugh; “it won’t take us so long to pack 
up.” 

“I suppose we might remain and watch them 
open up that den,” Beam mused thoughtfully. 
“I don’t know, though, as I care much about it. 
We’ve been inside and seen what it’s like. Guess 
I’d rather see that good old mother of mine; so 
we’d better pack up and go.” 

“All right. I’m ready,” said Tod, disappear- 
ing in the tent. 

“I suppose the originators of that den were 
some of the old gang that the citizens broke up 
in the early forties,” Mr. Foster mused, turning 
to Doctor Hall. 

“Probably. That was just before I came.” 

“I remember it well, for I was one of the posse 
that cleaned them out. You don’t remember any- 
thing about it, I suppose?” turning to Mr. John- 
son» 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


325 


^‘No, that was before my time. A.11 1 know is 
what the man that squealed on this gang told me. 
He said the old-time river thieves used to have 
a number of rendezvous and places to hide plun- 
der and stolen horses, and this was one of them. 
This gang got on the location somehow. I be- 
lieve the secret was handed down by some of the 
families of the old-timers.’’ 

‘‘Well, clean it up this time. Dig it out and 
fill up the hole.” 

“Just what I propose to do. We have work 
enough in other parts of the country, without 
having to watch this place.” 

“It ’s a wonder they didn’t try to interfere with 
the boys and get them off the island,” said 
Doctor Hall. 

“Ask Beam about that,” and the detective’s 
eyes twinkled. 

“I hate to tell about that scrape, but I suppose 
I’ll have to.” And Beam told his father and 
Doctor Hall how they had been tricked. Tod occa- 
. sionally adding some embellishments. 

They listened to the story, then Doctor Hall 
said: 

“That was certainly ah original scheme. It 
would have impressed most anybody. Especially 
that ‘rod of Aaron’ and the ‘Ides of April’,” 
and his eyes shone with merriment as he nudged 
his old friend. 

“They probably thought it was time the boys 
moved on, and took that method of helping 


326 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


them along,’’ said Mr. Foster, chuckling audibly. 

‘‘That Dr. Minton, or Cary, or whatever his 
name is, advised us to get on higher ground. 
Said it wasn’t healthy here,” said Beam with 
a grin. 

“He was interested in your health,” Doctor 
Hall commented dryly. 

“If’s rather an odd place for a den of this 
kind,” said Mr. Foster, “when one considers the 
numerous holes and eaves in ‘the bluffs along the 
main shore.” 

“That’s what I thought at first,” Mr. Johnson 
replied, “but when you stop to think that a posse 
of men might go all over the island without find- 
ing anything suspicious, it looks like a pretty 
shrewd idea. Long ago this island was probably 
a dense mat of vines and trees, as it is now.” 

“Yes, it was for a fact. You almost had to 
cut your way through with an ax, ’ ’ said Mr. Fos- 
ter. “I can see it was an ideal place to hide stolen 
horses. Just swam them across from the main 
shore and hid them in one of these thickets until 
the chase cooled down. Honest people rarely 
visited these islands in those days.” 

“That’s why the thieves made use of them,” 
returned the detective; “they were isolated from 
the world.” 

“What did Johnson think of your thunder- 
storm experience?” said Mr. Foster, turning to 
Beam. 


THE LAST OF A GANG 327 

/‘I didnT say anything about it. Tod and I 
concluded it was all in our imagination.^’ 

‘ ‘ What was that ? ’ ’ inquired the detective, look- 
ing interested. 

^‘Why, it seems that one night last su mm er 
during a thunder-storm, the boys thought they 
heard a horse neigh and then heard a scream or 
cry. But they never could find any evidence of 
anything being on the island to cause it.” 

‘‘Craven told me that the old-time members 
of the gang used to have a place on this island 
to hide stolen horses temporarily, but he didn’t 
think it was used any more. He didn’t know the 
exact location of the place, but thought it was 
somewhere in the southwestern part. He didn’t 
have anything to do with the horse stealing part 
of their depredations, as that amounted to very 
little now, compared to their other stealings.” 

“No, there isn’t one horse stolen now, where 
there used to be ten,” said Mr. Foster. 

Tod, who had come out of the tent and was lis- 
tening eagerly, now broke in ; 

“I’ll bet I know where it is. Beam. You know 
that short ridge with the tangle of grape-vines, 
grass, brush, and fallen trees, where we caught 
the two mink!” 

Beam nodded. 

“Well, that’s in the southwest and it’s the 
best spot on the island to hide anything. In fact, 
it’s such a dense tangle that we never tried to 


328 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


explore it much; just set our traps around the 
edge. ’ ^ 

‘‘Suppose we walk across and look the ground 
over/^ Mr. Johnson suggested; “it isnT far. 
iWhat do you say, Mr. Foster ? Purvey and Gray 
can go on up after the men. You’ll probably go 
back with the boys, anyhow. ’ ’ 

Mr. Foster nodded his acquiescence. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment. Must let 
Charlie Gerts know about getting the men. ’ ’ 

He hastily scribbled a note and handed it to 
Detective Purvey. “There, come on, Al. And 
you come too, John, you’re interested in every- 
thing around here. No telling what we may find 
on this island. ’ ’ 

“Yah, I coom,” replied Mr. Meister promptly. 
“Better take the ax,” Tod suggested; “it’s 
an awful thicket in there. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and by the way, there’s a pickax in the 
boat. .We might take that, too,” said Mr. John- 
son. 

“I’ll get it,” cried Tod, and five minutes later 
the party was trailing across the island. The 
objective point was only about three hundred 
yards from camp, and they were soon there. 

“It is quite a little jungle, that’s sure,” said 
Mr. Johnson as they reached the foot of the 
knoll. “Let’s circle around and see if we can 
find any trace of a path leading up. ’ ’ 

The little hill was truly a network of vines, 
underbrush, and fallen trees. It looked as if a 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


329 


cyclone, some time in the past, had visited the 
spot and literally torn things to pieces. Half- 
way around Johnson, who was in the lead, 
paused and said: 

‘ ^ This looks like an old path. Give me the ax, 
Tod,’^ and taking it he started up the hill, fol- 
lowed by the others. 

Hasn’t been used much lately,” Mr. Foster 
remarked, as they worked their way up through 
the brush and over fallen trees. 

‘‘No, but it was a path once, you can see,” 
rejoined Dr. Hall. 

Cutting off limbs and chopping down brush, 
the detective forced his way, until presently he 
emerged into a little clearing at the top and 
called back: 

“Here’s a cozy spot, boys. If this isn’t the 
place, it ought to be.” 

It was an ideal hiding-place; an open glade 
about thirty by fifty feet at the summit of the 
hill, the ground bare of everything but dead 
leaves, and surrounded by several large maple 
and elm trees, whose branches interlaced over- 
head, and which, when in full leaf, evidently 
formed a perfect canopy of shade. Scores of 
smaller trees and bushes between made a net- 
work so dense that only occasional patches of 
sky could be seen. It was simply a case of one 
of nature’s queer freaks in leaving that little 
nook bare of vegetation and hidden from the out- 
side world. 


330' YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


There a big hole in the side of the hill, all 
right,’’ said Mr. Johnson, pointing ahead; ‘Ut 
may be a wolf den and it may be something else. 
Get yonr gun ready, Dickson, and we ’ll go ahead 
and investigate. If a wolf jumps out, paste 
him. ’ ’ 

So saying, the detective pulled his revolvers 
and stepped ahead to the opening. They all 
peered in cautiously, but could distinguish noth- 
ing. 

‘‘You light a match, and I’ll have my gun 
ready,” said Mr. Johnson. 

Dickson complied, and they crowded into the 
narrow opening. The flickering match gave but 
little light, and Mr. Johnson said : 

“Give me your gun and light two matches. 
We ought to have made a torch, I suppose, but 
we can do that later. There isn’t anything in 
here, or it would be stirring by this time. ’ ’ 

“It’s an old stable, all right. There’s a rope 
halter hanging from a post in that corner over 
there, ’ ’ said Mr. Dickson suddenly. 

“Yes, I see it. That’s clear evidence of the 
use the place was put to. Nothing here now, 
though. Even the wolves or skunks pass it up. 
Let’s go out and call the boys.” 

Mr. Foster, Dr. Hall, “Dutch” John, Beam 
and Tod had walked to the top of the hill, 
directly over the opening, and were awaiting de- 
velopments, when Mr. Johnson appeared at the 
entrance. 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


331 


been used for a stable,’’ be called, ^^come 
on in, though there isn’t much to see now but an 
old rope halter. ’ ’ 

‘‘What do you think of our hearing a horse 
neigh, now?” cried Beam triumphantly, as they 
hurried down to the entrance. 

“This gives color to your story, although I 
don’t remember hearing of a horse being stolen 
in the last year around here, ’ ’ replied his father 
as they peered around in the gloom. 

“One of my neighbors, Sam Screiber, four 
miles vest of me, lost a horse from his basture 
last September ant nefer heard from it after- 
vords,” said Mr. Meister. 

“Perhaps that explains it; anyhow, it’s plain 
that horses have been kept here. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Johnson, “while the Vigi- 
lance Committee was hunting them, they simply 
stayed concealed here until the chase cooled 
down and then got out of the country. ’ ’ 

“They won’t do it any more,” said Mr. Fos- 
ter quietly; “we’ll have the men blow this up 
when they do the other den. ’ ’ 

“See, here’s a little pile of moldy oats,” called 
Mr. Dickson, who had wandered over to another 
corner of the place. This settled it and they 
needed no further evidence. 

“Mute, but incriminating,” Dr. Hall remarked 
as they walked out. “Plenty of room here to 
hide half a dozen horses. You will do a good 
thing to destroy this den, Hi.” 


332 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


As they were walking back to camp, Beam 
said: 

‘^Now, if I could only explain that human cry 
I’m sure I heard. Maybe it wasn’t our imagina- 
tion after all, Tod.” 

‘‘The chances are you will never know what 
it was, after this length of time,” said Mr. John- 
son. 

Dr. Hall dropped on a seat under the trees, 
with the remark : 

“I was just thinking of the thousands of men 
who try to get a living at that kind of business, 
and they work harder than they would to earn 
an honest livelihood, besides having the peni- 
tentiary staring them in the face continually.” 

“Oh, they drift into that kind of a life from 
various causes. It’s easy to get started, but 
hard to stop, ” replied Mr. Johnson, sitting down 
beside him. “I’m satisfied that the best way to 
reach such fellows is through religion. I can 
thank religion for being able to clean up this 
gang. The trouble is, not one preacher in fifty 
is fitted to do anything with them. It needs a 
magnetic, forceful, sympathetic fellow, a master 
of his calling, as it were. And there are mighty 
few of them.” 

“Society hasn’t much time to waste on its 
outcasts,” said Dr. Hall with a curl of the lip. 

“Pshaw, Al, you’re getting to be an old cynic. 
There are two ways of looking at these things. 


THE LAST OF A GANG 


333 


Let’s go uptown and help send those men 
down,” said Mr. Foster, slapping his friend on 
the shoulder, as Beam and Tod went into the 
tent to finish packing. 


CHAPTER XXin 


A PAET OF THE BUSY WOELD 

I T was mid- August ; just a year after Beam 
and Tod had gone into the woods to find 
out what Mother Nature could do in the 
way of restoring an emaciated, pain-racked body 
to normal health. That the kind old nurse had 
performed her task well, all of Beam’s friends 
acknowledged. 

It would be hard to describe in words the joy 
of Beam’s mother over her boy’s return to 
health. Indeed it made both father and mother 
feel young again to watch the color in his cheeks 
and the sparkle in his eye. 

Dr. Hall scouted some one’s remark that the 
cure was almost miraculous. 

‘‘Miraculous? Bosh!” he said. “Turn any 
sick man loose out in the woods and he ’ll get well 
without medicine, if he has any vitality left in 
him. In nine cases out of ten, medicine does no 
good, except as a temporary stimulant. Nature 
does the healing and the doctor and his pills get 
the credit. That’s all there is to it.” 

Just now, there was a business meeting at his 
office. Besides himself, there were Hiram Fos- 
ter and Beam, and Tod Masters. 

334 


A PART OF THE BUSY WORLD 335 

“So you have decided to study forestry in- 
stead of medicine, BeamU’ and the doctor looked 
at the tall, straight young fellow affectionately. 

“Yes, sir. I have thought the matter over, 
and believe I will like that better.” 

“You’re to blame for it, Al. You and that 
trip down in the woods,” remarked Mr. Foster 
with a smile. 

“I’m not ashamed of my part in it,” stoutly 
maintained the doctor. “Forestry is a grand 
work, and the chances to rise in it are just as 
great.” 

“Well, I don’t care which profession Beam 
chooses. The main thing is for him to get into 
something that he likes. He will be more likely 
to make a success of it,” said Mr. Foster. 

“That’s the idea exactly,” the doctor returned 
emphatically; “do something that you like to do, 
and half the battle is won at the start. That’s 
what I’ve always claimed.” 

“What is that I hear about your going on the 
river?” said Mr. Foster, turning to Tod. 

“It is true, I hope. My cousin, Tom Davis, 
one of the pilots on the ‘ Susie, ’ is going to teach 
me piloting; that is, if I have brains enough,” 
added Tod with a laugh. 

“I guess that business depends as much on 
memory as it does on brains,” Dr. Hall re- 
marked. 

“A man needs both, and a cool head to boot,” 
returned Mr. Foster; “but I think Tod will pan 


33fi YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


out all right. I hope so, at any rate. I feel 
under everlasting obligations to him for fetch- 
ing Beam out of the kinks.’’ 

‘‘You don’t owe me any thanks. That was the 
time of my life. I would like to go through it 
all over again.” 

“Except that night of the snowstorm, when 
the fellow was swinging two big revolvers 
around rather carelessly,” Beam remarked 
grimly. 

“Yes, I’ll omit that night.” 

“By the way. Hi, what was ever done with all 
that plunder they took from the island?” asked 
Dr. Hall. 

“Why, Johnson found some of the owners, I 
believe, and the rest of it was shipped to Chicago. 
I don’t know what they do with unidentified 
stolen goods; whether the state owns it or not. 
It ought to go to some charity fund, I should 
say. I’m awfully glad the den is cleaned out, 
anyhow. ’ ’ 

“Yes, so am I. We won’t have that to bother 
over any more. ” 

“Johnson told me there was over eighteen 
thousand dollars worth of goods in that little 
room,” said Mr. Foster. 

“They were goods that run into money fast. 
I could see that.” 

“Johnson told me a queer bit of news that 
came out at the trial of those fellows,” con- 
tinued Mr. Foster. “It seems that man Cass, or 


A PART OF THE BUSY WORLD 337 


‘Aunt Jane/ as the detectives called him, had' 
an occasional mania to pose as a woman. Once, 
when he was passing as ‘Marie Neville,’ he met 
this man La Moile, who died on the island, after 
trying to shoot Beam and Tod. With La Moile, 
it was a case of love at first sight. He proposed 
and they were actually married. It broke him 
all up when he discovered the deceit, and he 
was never the same man afterwards. ’ ’ 

“It beats all how many freaks there are in 
the world that pass for men and women,” Dr. 
Hall interjected. 

“The oddest part in this case is that in after 
years, unknown to each other, they both joined 
this gang of thieves. ’ ’ 

“Fate seems to give some people queer ex- 
periences. By the way. Hi, how many years did 
those fellows get? Do you remember?” 

“From twenty to thirty years. I don’t re- 
member exactly. ’ ’ 

“You and I will both be over the divide before 
they get out, anyhow. When do you take your 
first turn at the wheel. Tod?” asked the doctor, 
turning to young Masters. 

‘ ‘ On the ‘ Susie ’s ’ next trip up. ’ ^ 

“And Beam starts for the woods to-morrow.” 

“That’s the programme now,” Beam replied. 

“I tell you. Hi, it was a happy thought, send- 
ing that boy down to the island, instead of dosing 
him with medicine.” 

“It certainly was,” Mr. Foster admitted. 


338 YOUNG DUCK-SHOOTERS IN CAMP 


‘‘I wouldnT mind chaperoning another boy or 
two,’^ put in Tod. 

“You learn how to ^chaperone’ a steamboat,’’ 
remarked Beam; “there’s more money in it.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s so. I forgot. I ’m going to be a busi- 
ness man now,” said Tod, gazing fondly out over 
the broad river shimmermg in the sunlight. 



















